


The Bender Challenge

by Lazy8



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Firebending & Firebenders, Gen, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Shorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-04-06 15:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 29,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4227447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazy8/pseuds/Lazy8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of shorts connected by the common theme of fire. Warnings, characters, and relationships given on a chapter-by-chapter basis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Characters: Zuko, Aang, Iroh

A teacher should not be as ignorant as his student—yet somehow, he realized, that was what had happened.

At the sight of the dragons, he had been as shocked, awed, and (he was willing to admit it now) frightened as Aang—perhaps even more so, given that in Aang's time dragons had still roamed free. It made Zuko question, for a moment, whether he, a mediocre firebender who had always been second to his younger sister and struggled to master the most basic forms, was fit to train the Avatar, who would need a thorough mastery of fire now more than ever if he were to bring down his father.

The question, however, was pointless. There was no one else to do it, and so Zuko would.

More than ever, he wished that Uncle were here. Uncle would have been a far better teacher to the Avatar; he had the patience and the mastery, and he even shared a kindred spirit with Aang. The two of them would have gotten along so well, he thought. The Avatar deserved the Dragon of the West—yet he would have to make do with Zuko.

If nothing else, however, he could at least take comfort from the fact that he was finally beginning to understand Uncle's lessons, and after learning that Uncle had once stood where he now stood and learned from the dragons just as he had, Zuko couldn't help but feel that Uncle was still here, teaching him the meaning of fire.


	2. Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Iroh, Ozai, Pakku, Yugoda

Iroh had seen his brother kill before.

He'd put a stop to it when he could, but sometimes, he'd only been able to watch, and even through the horror he'd begun to notice a pattern. Sometimes, he was only making a point, and it did not truly matter to him whether the target of his ire lived or died; then he attacked with fire. When he truly wanted to set an example, however, Ozai used lightning.

It was well-known throughout the Fire Nation that lightning could not be blocked by any firebending technique; the only real defense was to get out of the way. Even the other bending arts were helpless before it: lightning burnt earth to glass and rent the very air asunder—but Iroh also noticed that it moved through water.

A strange phenomenon, he thought, that the ultimate technique of firebending should show such a perfect affinity for its natural opposite.

The next time he saw Pakku, he made a point of watching the waterbending master closely, taking special note of his fluid motions and the way in which he moved the water by redirecting its energy rather than forcing it to his will. In spite of all Pakku's eye-rolling and mutterings about "women's work," he also managed to arrange a meeting with the healer Yugoda ("a traveler from the Earth Kingdom," Pakku had explained, "whose interests I have given up attempting to fathom"), whom he had consulted extensively on the ways in which chi moved through the body.

It was a technique he'd never intended to test. Asking his brother or niece to shoot lightning at him was out of the question, and besides, he thought it best that his musings remain secret for as long as possible. When bad weather met Zuko's bad judgment and the skies threw down their fury on his nephew's ship, however, Iroh was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Iroh was explaining how to create lightning by "separating positive and negative energies and letting them crash back together," he was talking about stripping electrons off of atoms. Which is how lightning is made.


	3. Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Toph

Toph had decided on her revenge.

Zuko didn't know it, but in retrospect he probably should have figured it out, especially given the way the little earthbender smirked whenever he came within range, always in a way that sent chills up and down his spine. "Oh, nothing," she'd said when he confronted her—and he'd decided to drop the matter, not wanting to push his luck while her feet were still healing and he was on such thin ice with the others.

He should have known better.

Early in the morning he was treated to a rather rude awakening when his bed decided that he was no longer welcome in it, and tipped him none too gently over the side. From his spot on the floor, still trying to figure out what had happened in his muzzy, half-asleep state, Zuko finally managed to bring his focus to bear on an upside-down, blind, twelve-year-old girl.

"Rise and shine, Sparky!" she greeted him cheerfully. "My feet are all better now, and you're gonna spar me until I say you can go!"

 _How do I get myself into these messes?_ Zuko wondered as he pulled on his tunic. He had, he remembered with a groan, told Toph that he would do whatever it took to make up for burning her feet provided it didn't interfere with training the Avatar, and if a few rounds of sparring was what she wanted, honor demanded that he meet her request. He didn't even have the excuse of needing to tend to his teaching duties: Aang had sprained his wrist the day before, and even though Katara could have it healed in two days' time she had already warned him in no uncertain terms that if she caught them doing any sort of training before then, she would take it piece by piece out of Zuko's hide.

So it was that Zuko found himself standing opposite Toph in a makeshift arena under the gazes of the Avatar and his friends.

"Anytime you're ready, Sparky!" Toph taunted, pounding a fist into her opposite hand.

Well, he supposed, it wasn't all bad. Zuko had been so busy training the Avatar that he'd barely had any time to hone his own skills since joining the group (that little fiasco with Sokka did _not_ count). Maybe a friendly match was just what he needed. He'd just have to be careful not to hurt the girl again.

"Ready whenever you are!" he called back, sinking into a fighting stance.

* * *

Three hours later, he was dragging himself back to his room, where he collapsed on the bed, for once not caring who heard his pained groan. Katara had healed the worst of his injuries ("Don't think this changes anything between us. You can't train Aang if you're banged up yourself,") but his body was still littered with a multitude of minor bruises and aches. It hurt to move. It even hurt to lie down.

Worse yet, she had been _laughing_ the entire time.

Everything the Fire Nation taught its children about fire being best was a _lie_. No, Zuko decided as he closed his eyes in an attempt to give his battered body some rest before lunch, earth was by far the superior element.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing that always disappointed me about the Lost Adventures comic was that we never got to see how Toph avenged her feet. Also, I think that Zuko and Toph have a great dynamic as surrogate siblings.


	4. Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Aang  
> Pairing: Implied Sukka

"So what is this you keep saying about balance?"

Aang looked at Zuko, who was sitting across from him; the younger boy had been staring thoughtfully into the dying embers of their little campfire. The two of them were the only ones still awake; Zuko had been unable to sleep because his tent was right next to Sokka and Suki's—a fact he was trying his best _not_ to think about.

He didn't ask what was keeping Aang up.

"I thought you knew," Aang said, but not accusingly. "I mean… isn't that why you joined us? Because you realized the Fire Nation was upsetting the balance of the world?"

Zuko, however, shook his head. "I joined you because I'd realized that what the Fire Nation was doing was wrong. That people were getting hurt because of us. The whole balance thing… I guess that's something I've never understood. That's Avatar stuff."

"Hm." Aang cocked his head, as if trying to figure out to put his answer into words. It was understandable, Zuko supposed; after all, Aang had grown up with this stuff. He had never really needed to have it explained.

"Well," he said at last, "it's important to maintain balance because the elements need each other. _All_ of the elements. It's like…" he pondered for a minute before his face lit up, "…it's like a fire. Fire can't keep going unless it has something to burn, right?"

"Well, yeah." Aang sounded just like Uncle sometimes—Zuko had no idea what he was actually trying to say. Still, he decided it would be best to at least try to follow the impromptu lesson; it was the least he could do, after so many years of dismissing good advice. "Coal, usually, or wood."

In spite of his confusion, Aang looked happy with his answer. "In other words, earth—or something that grew in the earth. And if something's going to grow, it also needs water…"

All at once Zuko's mind was reeling; he'd never really thought of it this way before. "And air?" he prompted.

At that, Aang frowned, his excitement suddenly turning a touch grimmer. "Like this." Moving his hands in a delicate, controlled motion, he focused all of his concentration on the campfire. Zuko was about to ask what he was doing when all of the air was sucked away from that spot, leaving the fire pit in a whirling bubble of vacuum.

Almost immediately, the flames were snuffed.

"The elements need each other," Aang repeated, grimly, before releasing his control on the air. Standing with a sigh, he brushed the dust from his clothes before stretching his arms, and all at once he was just a twelve-year-old kid again, not the all-powerful savior of the world. "Well, I think I'm going to go to bed now. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Zuko echoed dully. He did not watch Aang leave, only stared into the ashes of the former campfire, the waxing moon now his only source of light.

He tried not to think about the _other_ possible applications of what Aang had just done—though he also knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the possibility had never even occurred to the younger boy. It was a fact that gave Zuko comfort, even if it would have given him an edge in the coming battle against his father.

Still, he could not help but think that he now understood why Sozin had chosen to take out the air nomads first.


	5. Bison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Appa

Appa was afraid of fire.

Zuko discovered this fact on his first night in the Western Air Temple, when he was unable to sleep. After several hours of tossing and turning, he finally gave up and got out of bed. Maybe a walk was just what he needed, he thought, pulling on his shoes. It was certainly a better prospect for clearing his head than staring at a dark room.

It was a new moon tonight, and Zuko summoned a small flame into his hand to help him see. It seemed that he was the only one awake; the others were all sleeping in a single room—a room from which he had been deliberately excluded. The corridors of the temple were still and silent, the only sound the wind through the canyon. Though he had never considered himself superstitious, he nonetheless shuddered and tried not to think of it as the wailing of the ghosts of all the people who had died here. Ghosts of the people who'd been murdered by _his_ ancestors…

This train of thought was at least partly responsible for his reaction when a loud roar exploded to his side.

Nearly jumping out of his skin, he whirled around, but in the process his foot caught on one of the many vines that had invaded the temple over centuries of neglect, and Zuko toppled uncontrollably onto his backside. In his state of momentary panic, his heart thundering at more than twice its normal rate, it took him a few seconds to recognize the large, white form that was still roaring at him to be the Avatar's bison.

"Appa?" Rubbing his eyes with his free hand, he stoked the flames higher, but this only made matters worse; Appa roared louder, but didn't charge him as Zuko was beginning to fear he would do. Instead, he backed toward the edge of the cliff, crouched low to the ground, his teeth still bared in a defensive snarl.

Zuko realized that he was afraid…

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Hastily he snuffed the flames, closing his hand around them, and the night went pitch-black.

It seemed that he excelled at messing up. First Toph's feet, now this… the only two members of the group who'd been willing to give him a chance, and he'd already hurt both of them.

He really was lousy at being good.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, more quietly this time. Though Zuko knew that his eyes would eventually adjust if he went long enough without a light source, at the moment the night looked pitch black—but he did not dare to light another flame. Instead, he made his way over to the place where he knew Appa would be, shuffling his feet forward in small steps that barely left the ground.

After what seemed like ages, his outstretched hand met fur. Breathing a sigh of relief, Zuko reached out his other hand to sink down beside it. A brief shudder went through Appa's body at his touch, but the bison did not topple him over or try to pull away, and Zuko was willing to consider that progress.

What had happened, he wondered?

It was clear from his reaction that Appa had been burned at some point; the only question was when, and by whom. Not the Avatar, certainly; while Aang had admitted to burning Katara by accident, he thought that Appa would have warranted a mention as well. Come to think of it, Aang didn't even seem to know that anything had happened to Appa at all—aside from being lost, that is.

"You know," Zuko murmured, sinking down to sit against Appa's side, "I've been burned before too." Unconsciously, his left hand moved to trace the edges of his scar. "Worse yet, it was by someone I should have been able to trust."

An answering rumble went through Appa's body, and Zuko craned his neck to look back at him. His eyes were beginning to adjust; he could just make out a pale towering wall of fur at his back.

"The thing is," he continued, absently reaching up to pat Appa's side, "you can't be afraid of fire forever because someone else has hurt you with it. Even if he didn't have fire, I'm sure he would have found another way." Zuko drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his shins.

Something cold and wet nudged his side in the dark: Appa's nose. He wasn't going to complain, though, not after he'd already gotten a face full of slobber—not to mention the first real welcome he'd had into the Avatar's group of friends.

"I guess that's something we both have in common," he confessed, rubbing a hand over Appa's nose.

* * *

"Guys! Hey guys!" Aang ran back to their shared sleeping space at the speed of wind, his eyes wide in a near-panic. He'd been the first to awaken; Katara sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes while Sokka groaned and yanked his sleeping bag up over his head.

"I can't find Zuko!" Aang continued, oblivious to the others' lack of concern. "I've just been down to his room, and he's not there!" He panted. "I have no idea what happened to him."

Katara scoffed. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" At the others' questioning looks, she crossed her arms with a huff. "He ran off, Aang! He couldn't take the pressure and jumped ship. He's probably halfway back to the Fire Nation by now."

Aang, however, shook his head with a frown. "I don't think so. All his stuff is still there. His hot air balloon too."

"He probably just got up early." Sokka waved a hand dismissively before rolling over onto his side. "What was it you said about firebenders rising with the sun? I bet he's outside practicing forms or something." With that, Sokka yanked the covers back over his head and started snoring once more.

That didn't assuage Aang's fears. "I'm still a little worried," he confessed, sinking to the floor. "Some parts of this temple are unstable, and Zuko doesn't know the place. What if he walked off a cliff in the middle of the night?"

"Aang, if you're really that worried about Zuko, go get Appa and look for him." It was clear from Katara's tone that she thought Zuko walking off a cliff would solve a lot more problems than it would cause. "I still say he ran off." With that Katara, too, lay down with the obvious intention of going back to sleep.

Aang stood with a sigh. They were probably right—well, not about Zuko bailing, but it was more likely than not that he was worried over nothing. Still, it would make him feel a lot better to make sure—it wouldn't do to lose his new firebending teacher before Zuko had even started teaching him.

With that thought in mind, Aang made his way to the spot where Appa was sleeping. He could have navigated the temple on his own, but in the unlikely event that Zuko _had_ walked off a cliff or injured himself in some other way… well, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Appa was still right where they had left him. So, it turned out, was someone else. Aang stared.

Zuko—crown prince of the Fire Nation, Aang's longtime nemesis—was curled up fast asleep against Appa's side. Both of his hands were unconsciously fisted in Appa's fur, and one of Appa's legs was draped over him, shielding him from the wind. As Aang watched, Appa looked up at him with a grunt, fixing on Aang with his liquid brown eyes. Aang smiled.

"Hey, buddy," he said—quietly, so as not to wake Zuko. "I see you've made a new friend."


	6. Badger Mole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Iroh, Zuko

"Well, I suppose we had better get going." Iroh pushed himself to his feet, joints creaking.

"What for?" Zuko had not moved from his place by the riverside, his head seeming to hang heavier in spite of the loss of his hair. "My honor… my country… my throne… I've lost them all, and now I'll never have a chance of getting them back."

It was nothing he had not said before, but the raw despair in his voice was worrying. He wasn't even breathing fire or punching flames to vent his frustration. It was almost as if his inner spark had gone out.

Iroh looked down on his nephew sadly. This was not the Zuko he knew… _never give up without a fight…_ and the thought of the boy broken was more than he could bear—yet there was no reassurance he could give that would not be a lie.

"You know, nephew," he said, kneeling down beside Zuko to place a hand on his shoulder, "it is true that we do not know where we are going right now." Zuko snorted. _Yeah, state the obvious. Why not tell me the sky is blue while you're at it?_

"…but," Iroh continued, "the wandering badger mole does not need a light to see by, as it is already blind."

"… _What?_ "

"You see, Prince Zuko, we only think that we need the light because we have never had to live without it. Yet those magnificent creatures do perfectly well never having known it at all."

" _Uncle?_ "

* * *

**_Several months later…_ **

"Even when I'm talking for him I have no idea what he's saying!"


	7. Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Iroh

The candles in his room flared up as Zuko removed his armor piece by piece, throwing each violently to the floor in a fit of temper. Drill the form again. That was all he heard, without fail, every single day. He was sixteen, not six! He had better things to do than drill the basics all day. Basics! As if that would help him against the Avatar—!

He was sick of this ship, sick of basics, and sick of Uncle, constantly lecturing him on his performance of forms that were usually reserved for children, always promising to teach him the next set but then making excuses not to. Uncle had even thrown flames at him that day, flames that had stopped just short of his face; he'd even felt his phoenix tail ruffle slightly as the momentary heat washed over him. How old did Uncle think he was? He didn't need demonstrations!

For that matter, who did Uncle think he was, anyway? First lecturing him…

" _You will learn respect…_ "

" _Firebending comes from the breath!_ "

…and then throwing flames…

" _…and suffering will be your teacher._ "

" _Not from the muscles._ "

Only much, much later did Zuko realize that it hadn't even occurred to him to flinch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an Easter egg from all the way back in Episode 1, which nobody is going to notice on first viewing but which really jumped out at me on my second or third: Iroh is shooting a jet of flames directly at Zuko's face, yet Zuko doesn't even flinch—which is pretty remarkable, all things considered. I see this not as an oversight on the writers' part, but rather a demonstration of the very deep trust between these two characters.


	8. Honor

Honor.

He'd thought, once, that the notion had meant something. That accomplishing great deeds in the eyes of his father, of his nation, was somehow equivalent to doing the right thing—to achieving the pinnacle of his own life.

He'd been young, then. He hadn't been good at thinking things through. His mind had always been stuck in the future—the glory and the throne that were waiting for him back home, the _honor_ he would receive were he to accomplish his goal.

All along, he had failed to see that everything worth having was already right in front of him.

The quest he'd set out on was deemed impossible by all who heard of it. They scoffed, they laughed, they shook their heads in barely-contained pity, and all the while he'd let _their_ actions goad him into pushing his goal ever harder. Proving them wrong became as much of a drive to him as his father's orders, as his need to achieve his goal. Maybe no one had ever accomplished it before, but then again he was not just anyone—he was the crown prince of the Fire Nation. Nothing was going to stand between him and his honor.

If only he had understood that honor is not a thing that someone else can give, that it has to be earned for oneself by choosing to do the right thing even when it goes against what one has been taught. It was a lesson he had learned, but not in time, and only at the steepest price.

Sighing, Iroh turned away from the unbroken walls of Ba Sing Se.

"We're going home."


	9. Humility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Iroh, Zuko

It wasn't that Iroh didn't know what the man was doing.

He had traveled too vastly, met too many people, and lived too long not to know a petty bully when he saw one. No, it certainly wasn't that he didn't know. It was that he saw the man for what he truly was: petty. Harsh words about a fat man dancing for his dinner weren't going to hurt him. The swords certainly could, but Iroh was also sure that it wouldn't come to that. The man was acting out of bravado, not bloodlust; it was not about hurting others, but making himself feel big by asserting his power over them. He would not swing at anything but Iroh's feet. Even if he did… well, Iroh was more than prepared to deal with that.

Unless it came to a matter of life or limb, however, it was not worth the effort. Iroh had also lived long enough—not to mention lost enough—to know what really mattered to him, and the low opinion of a stranger with swords was on the very bottom of that list.

His nephew did not understand such things. Zuko was still young, the fire still burning hot in his blood, and even if not for his natural temper, the environment in which he'd been raised had taught him to view humiliation as a fate worse than death. That was another reason he took such trials onto himself, as much as it was practical to do so—though the learning experience might have done him good, his nephew had already had enough painful lessons to last him a lifetime and more. Zuko would have plenty of opportunity in the future to learn humility, hopefully through more gentle means.

Besides, they needed to eat, and a gold coin was worth a moment's humiliation, especially for an old man who had very little ego left to bruise.

"Such a kind man."


	10. Defeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Ozai, Aang

He'd never thought that it would be possible, because _he_ was the strongest. _He_ had taken the throne from his weak older brother. _He_ had been the one to move his father out of the way. _He_ had conspired to do what no one save Sozin had dared do before him, and subdue the Earth Kingdom once and for all. He was the Phoenix King! Thanks to the comet, he had all the power in the world!

Even with all of that, however, he had somehow been defeated by a twelve-year-old boy.

How had it happened? He hadn't had a single weakness! Yes, the boy was the Avatar, and he had all the elements at his command. Yes, he would draw the same power from the comet that Ozai did; that, he understood. If it had only been a matter of the difference in power, he might have been able to accept his defeat.

The boy's power was not what occupied him, however. In spite of the power he wielded, the Avatar was still _weak_. The boy hadn't wanted to fight him, had begged him to reconsider. He'd had the opportunity to make a killing strike and he'd forsaken it. It was clear from his form and from the use of _that_ technique that he'd learned firebending from Zuko— _Zuko!_ His worthless son who had had to resort to weapons because his bending was a joke, who'd begged on hands and knees rather than fight for his honor like a prince should, yet somehow now thought himself worthy to train the Avatar. Whether his son had instilled the Avatar with his own weakness or simply failed to beat the boy's weakness out of him, he didn't know, and in all honestly he didn't much care. Right now, he only wanted to know one thing.

"How… did you do it?"

"Do you really want to know?" The boy was looking down on him now, but he was not angry; if anything, his gray eyes were filled with pity—another emotion that was reserved only for the weak. "I couldn't lose, because I was fighting for what really mattered. I was fighting to protect the people I love."

"I don't… understand."

Those were the last words he spoke before the exhaustion of battle and the loss of his bending caused him to collapse unconscious.


	11. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Iroh, Zuko, Lu Ten  
> Warning: Referenced character death

There was a time when he'd thought he knew what it was to be afraid.

When he was a young child, he'd been afraid of the dark water spirits hiding in the depths of the ocean, and would hide behind his mother's skirts whenever they visited his family's beach house. She'd only ruffle his hair and smile indulgently, even as his father grumbled about his shameful weakness and how people were starting to talk about how he wouldn't even go near the turtleduck pond for fear of what might be hiding in its depths.

When he was older, it was the other elements. During firebending practice it was easy to pretend that he was showing some dirt-thrower what _real_ fighting was like, but at night he would dream of invasions, of the vengeful benders of the other nations storming the palace to take revenge on his family, and Iroh would startle awake, pacing his room and taking a good, long look out the window to reassure himself that everything was still safe before he could go back to sleep.

The one time his mother caught him and he confessed his fears to her in a whisper, she only laughed and assured him that the airbenders were extinct, the Southern waterbenders were all but wiped out and the Northern tribe cared for nothing but remaining isolated from the world, and that the Earth Kingdom was too busy fighting the Fire Nation army on its own ground to think about mounting an invasion.

He did _not_ confess his fears to his father, for he already knew what the man would say: "Instead of troubling me with such trivial matters, you should perfect your firebending so that you do not _need_ to fear attack from anyone." So Iroh did.

Eventually, he grew out of these childish fancies, and thought that he was through jumping at shadows. It wasn't until much, much later that Iroh learned what _real_ fear was.

When he saw rocks flying straight through their fire, when he saw Lu Ten turn to face the incoming missiles with a look of surprise frozen onto his face, time slowed to a crawl, his heart leaped into his throat, and he could not seem to move his limbs fast enough no matter how hard he tried. As he held his son's broken body in his arms, Iroh also learned the true meaning of grief.

Years later, when the peaceful night was shattered by the explosion of gunpowder and he knew, immediately, that it was exactly where he'd left the ship— _Zuko's_ ship—he ran back as fast as his legs would carry him, throat burning, to find that all that was left for him was burning wreckage. Had his nephew not managed to bend the explosion around him and retain enough consciousness to swim back to shore, he thought that he would have sat insensible on that shore until he died of exposure.

Fear was his constant companion in the months that followed: every time Zuko ran off without thinking, every time they were separated, every time his nephew charged headlong into a situation where it would have served him much better to wait and listen, Iroh felt the fear once more clawing its way up out of his gut. On the morning he'd prepared to take back Ba Sing Se, it had been worse than ever.

Zuko had found him. They'd finally found each other again, and Iroh had just sent him into a life-or-death battle against his sister—Azula, a true prodigy, who'd hurt them both at every opportunity and would no doubt jump at the chance to do so again.

He'd known that he had to do it, however. Even aside from the reasons he'd already given, he knew that he couldn't keep on protecting Zuko forever—at least, not in person. In a way, he liked to think that he _was_ still protecting Zuko and always would be, that the lessons he'd taught had stuck and that Zuko would be able to protect himself with what he'd learned—but he could never be sure. There could always be someone stronger, and he knew that as long as they both lived, the fear would never truly leave him. It was an inevitable part of being a parent, and all the worse for having lost someone already.

When they met once more after the battles were finished, however, and Zuko came to him—heavily bandaged, obviously wounded, but crowned, recovering, and _alive_ —Iroh allowed himself once more to have hope that fear could once more become a thing of the background in this time of peace.


	12. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Iroh, Gaang, Mai  
> Pairing: Maiko

_For so long I wanted you to love me. To accept me. I thought it was my honor that I wanted, but really, I was just trying to please you._

For so long, his nation had been run by Fire Lords who placed no value on love. Ozai had not loved; he had found scarring and banishment to be an acceptable punishment on his thirteen-year-old son, for speaking out of turn. Azulon had not loved; he had deemed ordering his son to kill his nine-year-old grandson to be an acceptable punishment for a similar crime.

Sozin might have loved, but whatever he'd felt for Roku had been selfish, only ever thinking of serving his own ends. Sozin had chosen to listen to his ambition rather than a loved one's council, and trying to twist love to serve himself was what had started the war. Ever since then, his line had been taught that love was a weakness—after all, Uncle had loved, and it had cost him the throne.

Zuko, however, had also learned to love, and in so doing had learned that it was a place from which he could draw strength.

_He's the one who's been a real father to me._

He'd learned about family. Love was what had sent Uncle with him through three years of exile and hardship, and had sent him tracking a group of Earth Kingdom soldiers when he could have been chasing the Avatar's bison.

_And now we're friends._

_I think I'm ready to forgive you._

He'd learned the meaning of friendship. Love was what had driven him to leap in front of a comet-enhanced lightning bolt to keep another from dying.

_I love Zuko more than I fear you._

He'd learned the meaning of romantic love. Love was what had turned Mai against Azula for his sake, had driven her to put her own life on the line so that he could get out.

If not for the love of others and his love for others, Zuko would not have been standing where he was now. It was no coincidence that he used the word in the same speech in which he declared an end to the war.


	13. When did this happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Gaang

_When did this happen?_

It had been gradual, not something where he could draw a firm line between the "before" and the "after." Zuko would never be able to say for sure just when he had transitioned from a useful if uneasy ally to truly being a member of the Avatar's little group.

It might have been Appa, who against all odds had _remembered_ him, remembered him and been grateful: the only member who had unambiguously and openly expressed his acceptance of Zuko from the very first day.

It might have been Toph, who had accepted his burning of her feet for the accident it was and held no grudges, but who had spoken of revenge with a tone that almost bordered on the affectionate: the only member who had believed in his honesty from the very first day.

Maybe it was Aang, who had seen their shared insecurities and in the end had taught as much as he had learned, even if through no conscious effort of his own: the only one who had seen their intertwined destinies from the very first day.

Or maybe it was Sokka, who'd shared swords and stories and even a master, who'd had the easiest time understanding him on the need for a father's love. Zuko had been surprised at how unjealously happy he'd been at helping the Water Tribe boy regain what Zuko could no longer have for himself: the one who'd understood him best, even if they hadn't known it at the time.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was Katara.

Katara, the first to trust him before he'd joined, the last to accept him after. Not a day had gone by that she hadn't belittled him, insulted him, or let him know that she was watching him like a hawk lest he even _think_ about hurting Aang—and worst of all, he knew that he'd deserved it. He'd made terrible choices, and he'd accepted from the beginning that doing the right thing was never going to be easy. Maybe that was why Katara's forgiveness had meant so much to him—because she was the one he'd wronged the most personally.

The sweetest forgiveness, after all, was the one that he'd earned.


	14. It's the quenchiest!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Sokka, Iroh  
> Warnings: For implied unintentional drug use

"Ha! I have you now! So, I move my wheel tile over to this square, and then…"

Sokka's triumphant crowing, however, promptly turned into a cry of dismay when Iroh casually reached out to pick up his white lotus tile and move it two squares over—definitively winning the game.

"Gaaa-aaah!" Sokka rocked his chair backward, pulling his hair out of its wolf tail as his fingers scrabbled at his skull. "How do I keep forgetting about that white lotus tile!?"

In response, Iroh only grinned. "So many people underestimate the white lotus tile, even though it is the most important piece in the game of Pai Sho."

"You're telling me." Sokka let his chair fall forward again, continuing with the motion until his forehead met the table. His head came back up, however, as another thought occurred to him. "Hey, isn't that piece connected to the Order of the White Lotus? I remember Zuko telling me something about a tavern in the Misty Palms Oasis…"

"Ah! So my nephew remembered, I see." Iroh looked pleased in spite of the likelihood that Zuko had only remembered due to the fact that he'd been in such a bad mood at the time. "I could tell you some stories about my first time in that place."

"Well, it's right on the edge of the Si Wong Desert, so I bet." Sokka's eyes glazed over as he began to recall his own adventures. "First time I went in there I discovered a whole hidden library—that's where I found out about the Day of Black Sun." Encouraged by Iroh's smiles and nods, he continued proudly, "But then we almost got eaten by a spirit monster. And while we were down there Appa got stolen and we had to cross the entire desert on foot. Though I don't remember a whole lot of that part, because… well…" He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Katara ran out of water pretty quickly, and we didn't have anything to drink…"

"Ah yes, the juice of the Si Wong cactus. It's very thirst-quenching, is it not? The quenchiest, as a matter of fact. It is a shame about the aftereffects, however."

As Sokka gaped at him— _Did Toph tell him she better not have told him I swear I'm really going to kill her this time_ —Iroh folded his hands over his ample belly with a serene smile. "I did tell you, didn't I, that I could tell you some stories."


	15. Sand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko

He'd never been sure whether he loved the beach or hated it.

On the one hand, he had fond memories of playing in the sand with Uncle and Lu Ten, when they'd both been kids well before Lu Ten had gone off to war and died. He had even earlier memories of sitting on the beach with his mother, who'd cared nothing for the way he was getting sand everywhere and into everything, only about rolling a colorful ball around for his pleasure. More recently, Zuko even had a memory of the one time since he was four that Azula had acted like his sister.

On the other hand, he also had memories of pain. He remembered fights, breakups, and the reopening of old wounds as he and his friends bared their scars by the side of a sheltered campfire. Though it was true that his ventures here with his family had usually been happy ones, he'd also meant what he'd said to the others: that had been a long time ago. Being here was all the more painful for that very reason.

When Zuko saw the others' inclination to enjoy the beach for what it was, to swim and build sand sculptures and act like normal teenagers for once, his reaction admittedly wasn't the best. _They_ could still be kids, even Katara who'd always been the "mother" of the team. His days of childhood were _gone_.

 _Our adulthoods will be too if you don't shape up, Avatar_ , he thought as he threw the first flame.


	16. Swamp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Iroh, Huu  
> Warning: Referenced character deat

It would not have been inaccurate to say that he'd been mad with grief—mad enough to forsake the throne without a fight, so many others had whispered. For his own part, when he looked back on his actions in much later years he realized that the true madness had been in letting his grief consume him to the point of forsaking what family he had left.

At the time, however, Iroh had been thinking that choosing to enter the massive swamp with neither map nor guide was the craziest thing he'd ever done—and he hadn't even cared.

He'd seen his son. Eventually he lost count of the number of times he'd gone running, splashing through the reeking waist-deep water without a care for his clothing, chasing after Lu Ten's smiling face only to see a stump or a patch of moonlight that had taken on a false appearance in the perpetual half-twilight. A full day and night of chasing shadows had brought him to the roots of a massive tree, where he'd thrown a few fire blasts indiscriminately in all directions before he collapsed from exhaustion and hunger.

"WHY?" he screamed to the uncaring vines. "Why do you keep tormenting me?" Now sobbing uncontrollably, Iroh allowed his body to settle in between the massive roots, where he had every intention of staying until the spirits answered him, or death took him. After all, he no longer had anything to live for.

That was exactly where the other man found him when the sun was setting that evening.

At that point, Iroh was too far gone to care that the man was barely dressed, or that he had propelled himself up into the tree by commanding a wave of water. Nor did the man seem at all concerned with who he was or where he was from; not even Iroh's obviously foreign clothing, the cloth dyed an unmistakable shade of red, seemed to disturb him.

Instead, the man settled down beside him—close enough for conversation, but still at a respectful distance—and began to talk. He spoke of the illusory nature of time. He told Iroh that love would never leave this world. Later, Iroh would only be able to remember one specific thing that he'd said:

"Everything is connected."

When Iroh finally began to push himself to stir, the man offered his hand with a smile. He introduced himself as Huu.

The rest of the strange tribe of waterbenders who lived in the swamp fed him—strange food, to be sure, but it restored his strength. They offered him a place to sleep. Nobody commented on his nationality. As a matter of fact, they were downright friendly—it was as if they had no idea that the world was currently embroiled in a war, and that his nation (his family) was the aggressor—or, from the knowing looks that Huu occasionally shot his way, they knew perfectly well and didn't care.

The next morning, Iroh went on his way with profuse thanks and the thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to keep standing now even though it still felt like his heart was breaking into pieces within his chest.

When he turned back for one last look, he thought he saw a glimpse of a young man with a scar on his face.


	17. Metal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Iroh

Firebenders were never restrained with rope.

Twine, they'd known, would burn, as would any form of cloth. Yes, there was a good chance that setting such a thing on fire would burn his skin too, but the men who'd captured him were not willing to take that kind of chance—not even with an ordinary firebender, and certainly not with the Dragon of the West. No, when it came to captured firebenders, the only acceptable material was metal.

Metal could not be burned away, nor could it be blasted to pieces by a sufficiently powerful flame like rock. Metal, he knew, conducted heat. It was next to impossible to heat up one part without also making the rest too hot to bear—anyone attempting to sear the shackles away by brute force would cripple himself long before he managed to soften the cuffs enough to melt them away. An ordinary firebender would have been in serious trouble.

Iroh, however, was not an ordinary firebender. Having learned from dragons gave him quite an edge as it was—they might have restrained his arms and legs, but they would never be able to take away his breath, not without killing him, and Iroh knew that they wouldn't do that. Their hunger for justice burned far too strongly to let them kill him on the spot.

His true advantage, however, was his respect for the other elements. Iroh might not have been able to bend metal, but it was a medium like any other, and he could redirect heat—like lightning through water.

Now, all he needed to do was buy some time. Once his nephew showed up to back him, these earthbenders wouldn't stand a chance.


	18. Sword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Piandao  
> Pairing: Slight Maiko flavor

Benders didn't need weapons—or at least, they _shouldn't_. Zuko, however, was barely worthy to be considered a firebender—as his father reminded him on an almost-daily basis.

Uncle had provided him with an introduction as well as the reassurance that he would be learning from a great master. Piandao, however, wasn't a bender of _anything_ —how could he possibly be the master that Zuko needed?

"Patience, Nephew," Uncle advised when he declared that he needed to focus on his firebending, not on learning to use weapons meant for people who couldn't control the elements. "You should consider the possibility that overtraining is doing your bending more harm than good. Let your firebending come to you in your own time," he continued gently, laying a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "You like knives and swords, do you not? Having a working knowledge of weapons will not do you any harm. Besides," his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "I understand your friend Mai has rather an affinity for knives as well. It certainly wouldn't hurt your chances with her."

Reluctantly, Zuko had agreed—but not because he was actually interested _or_ because of Mai. He just wanted to see what this Piandao person was all about.

The master agreed to teach him, and from then on Uncle would see to it that Zuko found his way to Piandao's mansion at least two or three times a week. The exercises that the master made him do were strange—he had to demonstrate both his penmanship and his painting, not to mention moving around a lot of rocks, before he even got to touch a sword—but when he stopped grumbling about how pointless they were long enough to actually concentrate on what he was doing, Zuko found that they soothed him in a way his own attempts at meditation never had.

The most frustrating part about the sword training itself was that Piandao wouldn't let him firebend—not even to enhance his sword work.

"But I'm a firebender!" Zuko protested. "If I'm ever in a real fight I'm going to be using my bending!"

"You should not rely on your bending for everything." Piandao almost never got angry—he was like Uncle that way. "If you get in a real fight, you might not be able to."

At the time, Zuko did not understand. Nor did he understand Piandao's parting words to him, when he handed Zuko his very own pair of dao blades:

"Prince Zuko, you came here thinking you would never amount to anything because you thought you were a poor firebender. I once thought the same thing, because I was not a firebender at all. Yet I became a renowned master—and if you stay on this path, I'm sure you will be as well."

* * *

On the Day of Black Sun, Ozai hid away in an underground bunker. When Zuko confronted him, neither one of them had their firebending—yet because Zuko held swords, Ozai was forced at long last to listen.


	19. Hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Ozai, Iroh  
> Pairing: Brief mentions of Urzai  
> Warning: Implied abuse

Ozai had once idolized his father, only for that feeling to gradually slip downward into disappointment and eventually contempt. He had never known his mother. He viewed his nephew as little more than an obstacle and an annoyance. His wife, whom he had once seen as attractive—beautiful, even—he now looked on with nothing more than cold disdain. He did not think of his son at all if he could avoid it—though when the matter was forced on him, it was usually accompanied by an intense if short-lived surge of hot anger. His daughter was certainly useful, but as far as he was concerned, she was little else.

The only one, however, that Ozai could ever say that he had truly hated, was his brother.

Their positions alone were reason enough for animosity. Iroh had been born first, therefore _he_ was the destined heir to the throne—a position he had earned through no merit of his own, never mind that Ozai would have made a far better Fire Lord. To add insult to injury, however, Iroh always insisted on patronizing him by telling him to conduct himself, and Ozai, being both younger and out of favor, was forced to grit his teeth and listen, all the while biting back whatever retort was dancing on the tip of his tongue.

"Why little brother, how would you like it if somebody did that to _you?_ "

_She's a peasant! Nobody cares! Besides, I would never be_ _ stupid _ _enough to leave a pit in a prince's cherry!_

"Move your hands closer together, Ozai. You are sacrificing control for power."

_If I ever get in a real fight, do you think_ _ control _ _is going to matter?_

"Now remember what I showed you when you present yourself to Father. If you complete all of your sets without a single mistake, I think he will be quite pleased."

_No he won't! Nothing_ _ I _ _do has_ _ ever _ _pleased Father, and if you pulled your head out of the sand for two seconds you'd realize that and stop trying to get him to like me!_

Finally, the day came when he could hold it in no more.

"Breath, Ozai. Firebending comes from the _breath_. You can't keep relying on your muscles, or—"

"What do _you_ know?"

Iroh stopped dead, staring in shock; it was the first time Ozai had ever talked back to him.

"Every time you come home you do this!" Now that he had started, he couldn't seem to stop, and the words came pouring out of him like the flames that had only seconds ago been shooting from his hands. "Perfect, flawless Iroh, the crown prince, Father's favorite. Well you know _nothing_ about my life, and you don't know _me!_ "

"Ozai, I am only trying to help—"

"Well I don't _need_ your help!" He shot an arc of flame out for emphasis, an arc which washed harmlessly over Iroh's armor. "Now leave me alone!"

"Ozai, please—"

"Don't you _get_ it? I _hate_ you! I hate you and if I ever get the chance, I'm going to hurt you as badly as I can!"

He waited, panting, for the reprimand, but it never came. Instead, Iroh shook his head with a look of immense sadness in his eyes, turned around, and walked away.

For the rest of that day, Ozai waited with bated breath for an angry summons to present himself to his father—but it never came. Iroh had not told. If anything, however, this only made Ozai hate Iroh _more_ ; what was he thinking, trying to protect him when Ozai had already made it clear that he wanted nothing more to do with him? The insult was unbearable—how weak did he think Ozai was? He didn't need his brother constantly sheltering him from his father!

After that incident, Iroh did try to approach him a few more times, but Ozai responded by either yelling at him to go away, or acting like he wasn't there at all. At long last, Iroh stopped trying.

He meant what he'd said. Once Ozai had made up his mind to hate someone, he never regretted it.


	20. Non-bender!AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Iroh  
> Warnings: Canonical child abuse

He should have known a long time ago that it would come to this.

Zuko had done everything he could think of to please his father. From a young age he had made a point of knowing the movement of the troops, of taking an active interest in the war that the royal family was leading. He had studied diligently, had gone over his lessons in everything from history to mathematics until he could recite them back without a single mistake—a feat which had cost him several hours a night in sleep and even longer in play, and which Azula had mastered without even trying. He had even studied swords with the greatest master who would take him, spending hours and days under Piandao's tutelage until his skill with the dao blades became nearly legendary among the court, so that no matter what happened he would never be left defenseless.

To Ozai, however, none of that mattered. Zuko had not been born a bender, and therefore he was completely worthless.

When his father had ordered him to Agni Kai, he hadn't stood a chance—and Ozai had known it. As a matter of fact, it was likely that the only reason Zuko was still alive was because he had refused to fight.

Now, Iroh watched his nephew drill his swords once more on deck, over and over again without end, in preparation for his impossible task. Iroh did not have the heart to tell him that as things stood, he was more likely to capture the Avatar than to gain his father's approval.

 _Ozai, how can you not realize what a gift you've been given?_ Zuko was intelligent, compassionate, and determined—he would have made a fine Fire Lord, even if he couldn't control the elements. Ozai, however, refused to see the value in having a son—the only thing he cared about was power.

"Prince Zuko. You should take a break."

"What else would I expect to hear from the laziest man in the Fire Nation?" Zuko's face was twisted into a snarl that was disturbingly reminiscent of his father, and not for the first time Iroh wished desperately that he'd removed the boy from his brother's influence earlier—Ozai had already poisoned him far too much as was.

"Prince Zuko—"

Zuko, however, wasn't listening. He had already gone back to swinging at invisible enemies—or, more likely than not, invisible Avatars.

 _I only hope you do not get yourself killed before you have truly had a chance to live_ , Iroh thought sadly. _My brother may care nothing for you, but you mean the world to me—bending or not._

Sighing, Iroh settled down at his solitaire table and prepared to pass yet another long day watching his nephew slowly kill himself. He wasn't giving up on him—not now, not ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm seriously considering rewriting this one from scratch, because I'm not entirely satisfied with how it came out.


	21. Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Iroh

It was fire, yes—but it was also so much more.

As Iroh stood beneath the whirling flames, he finally understood something he'd never seen before. The light swirling around him was broken up into so many colors—gold, red, green, and even blue—yet somehow, he knew that if not for the vision the dragons had granted him, the light would have looked white.

 _Balance._ That was what he was seeing in the fire—four colors for four nations. If even one of those colors had been absent, the fire would not have been nearly as bright, would have flickered out into dull mediocrity. The elements needed each other— _all_ of the elements.

 _What are we doing?_ he wondered. _The Fire Nation seeks its own glory, but look at what it is costing us—what it already has cost us._

Iroh had come here with the intention of killing the last dragon—to prove his own glory in the eyes of both his family and his nation. Now, however, he knew that he couldn't. It would be a dark victory indeed to take something this beautiful—this bright—out of the world for his personal gain.

 _If it gets back to anyone that I failed, someone else will come here—someone thirsting to prove that he can do what I could not._ His younger brother immediately came to mind.

He was left with no choice, then. No one else must ever know.

It was a shame that such a beautiful experience had to end in a lie—but hopefully, it also meant that Iroh would not be the last to learn the true meaning of fire.


	22. Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Iroh, Zuko, Katara

At long last, he'd fulfilled his destiny. He'd taken the great city of Ba Sing Se.

Standing before the Earth Kingdom palace, watching the Fire Nation flag burn after he'd personally set it on fire, Iroh recalled the vision that he'd had as a boy.

It had been vague, as far as visions went. It hadn't included any White Lotus, and it certainly hadn't included the fact that he'd be taking the city back from his own people. The only thing it had told him was that he _would_ take it—but that was a fact that he had known with surety, a fact on which he'd been ready to bet his life and his throne. Never mind that everyone else had said it was impossible, that Ba Sing Se was called the Impenetrable City for a reason—after all, it was _his_ destiny.

Iroh knew of the concept of the self-fulfilling prophecy, in which foretelling an event was the surest way to bring it about. In many ways, the opposite had been true for him—he had already known of his fate, but had failed because he had tried to force destiny's hand, and destiny had not been kind in turn. Then, Iroh had been willing to bet his own life, but he had lost Lu Ten.

This time, he had let destiny run its course, had seen the value of waiting for things to happen in their own time—and this time, destiny had been his friend. As he watched the last scraps of cloth burn, Iroh wondered whether if he'd been wise enough to wait the first time, his victory would not have hurt so much. For now, he could only hope that destiny had forgiven him, and that he had spoken the truth that morning.

He did not know what he would do if he lost another son.

* * *

He finally had everything he'd ever wanted, and yet it still _hurt_.

He'd restored his honor—yet he could not stop wondering whether he and Katara would be the only ones to make it through the rest of this day alive. He'd found a father's love in the man who had raised him, but that wouldn't heal his scars or remove the pain that still lingered in him that his father by blood had, with no hesitation, attempted to take his life. He'd even won the throne—but it had come at the expense of watching his sister scream and thrash on the ground like a chained animal.

Was _this_ the destiny Zuko had wanted so badly?

He must have said some of this aloud without realizing it, for he felt Katara's hand press into his back, supporting him in more ways than one, and then she was guiding him gently to the dais where Azula had been seconds away from being crowned the next Fire Lord. Pain lanced through his body at every movement, and Zuko realized belatedly that he was still hurt: Katara's water may have saved his life, but she had not been able to fix everything—not for a wound as severe as the one he'd sustained.

"You did what you had to," she said gently, sitting down beside him.

"I know." He looked back over at his Azula, whose screaming had now given way entirely to tears. "It just—"

"It doesn't feel right." Her hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Believe me, I know."

Zuko shook his head. "I never knew that winning could feel this bad."

"Trust me." Her grip tightened, and suddenly he realized that Katara was just as worried as he was. "This isn't any easier for Aang than it is for you."

With a sigh, he turned toward the horizon, where the red light of the comet still lingered and he knew that somewhere, Aang was taking on his father in a battle that would make what he and Azula had just done look like kids playing with spark rocks. Or maybe the battle was already over, in which case Zuko realized that the victory that he'd achieved didn't matter at all—he might have secured the Fire Nation, but the fate of the world was in the hands of the Avatar.

"It's funny," he said as they watched the red slowly fade from the sky. "I spent three years of my life chasing after this moment—after my destiny—but now that it's here… I don't know whether I want it at all."

For a few minutes, Katara was silent. "You know," she said at last, "one thing you learn in the Water Tribe is that sometimes, you steer your canoe into a strong current. You can paddle against it, or you can try to rush things and steer yourself into an iceberg, but sometimes… it's best to just let the ocean take you where it will."

As she stood in his stead to meet the first people who were coming out to see them, he realized that she was right. Zuko had found his destiny—now, it was time to let it take him where it would.


	23. Did you see that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Toph

Okay, so carrying around a twelve-year-old girl on his back actually wasn't that bad. Toph was small, and once Zuko had managed to block out the snickers of the others he could manage to think of it as extra training. Besides, it was hardly the worst punishment she could have come up with.

Now, if only she would stop _talking_.

"Hey Sparky, did you see that?"

"Huh?" He looked around, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. "See _what?_ "

" _That!_ " Following her pointing finger, he saw nothing but more ruins. "It's right there! Are you _blind_ or something?"

" _No!_ " At long last, he was starting to get irritated. "I just don't see what you're—"

A series of snickers from behind him interrupted his tirade. Looking back, he saw that Katara (who was in the process of shelling nuts for dinner while he built up the fire) was now having a good laugh at his expense.

"What?" he demanded, dropping the latest load of kindling. Before Katara could answer, he heard Toph starting to laugh as well.

_Oh._

* * *

The next few days continued in the exact same vein.

First thing in the morning, Zuko had lessons with Aang. As soon as he was finished with that, however, Toph would demand her ride—at which point it would start all over again.

"Hey Sparky, did you see that?"

"See what?"

"HA! Got you again!"

"Look at that!"

"I don't see— _Toph!_ "

"Hey Sparky, don't you think that cloud looks like a fluffy bunny?"

"Nice try."

"…wow, you're good. It took Sokka two months and he _still_ forgets sometimes."


	24. I'll believe it when I see it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Azula, Ty Lee  
> Warnings: Emotional abuse/intimidation

"Hmph. I'll believe it when I see it."

Azula had been saying that to Ty Lee about the things she could do for as long as she could remember. First, it had been a cartwheel.

"Sure, Azula," she'd said with her biggest smile, and did a perfect cartwheel. As a matter of fact, they were so much _fun_ that she did three in a row.

Azula pushed her over when she finished, because she was the princess and _nobody_ was supposed to be better than her at _anything_. Ty Lee ran home crying that day, because she'd thought they were friends and she'd thought that Azula would be happy she was doing something that she enjoyed.

The next day, Azula called her back.

"Can I not go?" she asked her mother in a small, shaking voice that sounded much more timid than she had meant it to.

"Why not? You and Princess Azula adore each other. Are you feeling ill?" Even though she wanted to say yes, she shook her head; Ty Lee had always been a horrible liar, and besides, her mother already had a hand on her forehead and would know she was not feverish.

The silence dragged on: her mother was waiting for an answer, but Ty Lee realized that she did not want to tell her what happened. What if Azula pushing her _was_ her fault in some way? Her mother was always telling other mothers what sweet daughters she had, and while Ty Lee wished she would say things about her in particular, she didn't want to be known as the mean one.

Realizing she wasn't going to get an answer, her mother let out a sigh. "You can't refuse a summons from the royal palace," she said at last, and Ty Lee knew that as long as she didn't give a reason, that was the answer she was going to get. "If you and the princess had a fight, you should make it up with her. That's what friends do, right?"

That _was_ what friends did, and when she saw Azula that day the first thing Ty Lee did was apologize for trying to be better than her. After thinking about it for a few minutes, Azula agreed to forgive her— _if_ Ty Lee would teach her how to do a perfect cartwheel herself. Ty Lee happily obliged, and they were friends again like nothing had ever happened.

Next, it had been a handspring, and Azula had shot blue fire.

Ty Lee wasn't actually burned—Azula had only been giving her a warning—but she was still scared enough to start crying a bit, and this time, she apologized right away.

"So I guess you want me to teach you that, too?"

From then on, whenever Azula said "I'll believe it when I see it," Ty Lee stopped showing her that it was, indeed, possible. Instead, she taught Azula how to do it, and only when the princess could do at least a passable job did Ty Lee feel safe about practicing the move in front of her.

Then, she saw a thing that changed her life forever.

A traveling circus was coming through town, and her parents took her and her sisters to see a performance as a treat. There were clowns and animals that flew through hoops, firebenders that made dragons out of flame and even a dancing platypus bear. Ty Lee, however, had eyes only for the acrobats. Watching them flip and spin midair, she had a sudden thought: _Yes. I want to do that._

"Hey, Azula? I was thinking about joining the circus."

"The _circus?_ " Azula raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Now _that_ I'll believe when I see it."

Ty Lee bit her lip as Azula went back to her firebending forms. She'd gotten her answer: Azula did not approve of her choice. More than anything, however, Ty Lee was starting to realize that she wanted to do something that would make _her_ happy—and it had been a long time since she'd been happy with Azula.

As soon as she got home that day, she spoke to her parents. The very next day, she packed up her things and left.

Not a day passed by that she didn't wait for Azula to hunt her down once more.

Then, there came the day when Azula did.

* * *

" _I'll believe it when I see it,_ " Azula had said, once, when she'd mentioned she was learning a way to block a person's chi and stop them from bending—even to stop them from _moving_. For once, Ty Lee had been glad about Azula's rule of not doing anything better than her, because she _liked_ everyone else in the palace and didn't want to do it on any of them, and she certainly wasn't stupid enough to demonstrate it on Azula.

Then, however, Azula called her brother over and asked Ty Lee to show her how it worked. After, she held her hands to her mouth while Azula laughed gleefully at the sight of Zuko lying paralyzed on the ground. In that moment, Ty Lee understood: she'd just demonstrated something that Azula found useful, even if she couldn't do it herself. Somehow, she knew that in her heart, Azula believed that the technique could never be turned against her. After all, she wasn't _weak_.

Now, Zuko was getting away—but she knew that Mai wouldn't. Even so, Mai was doing the unthinkable: she had her knives out and her sights set on Azula, and in that moment Ty Lee truly understood. She would be finished now whether she fought or not—so it was better to fight.

There was no decision left for her at all. Ty Lee moved forward, and struck—decisively, without hesitation, and Azula fell, limp-boned, lifeless, unable to move. The guards had to lift her just so she could look them in the eyes.

Azula had seen it. She finally believed it.


	25. It was hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Sokka  
> Pairing: Zukka subtext

"Hey, Jerkbender! Tossing off your shirt again, I see?"

"Wha—?" Zuko's shirt was, indeed, already halfway over his head, and the word came out muffled through the cloth that was covering his face. "We're about to practice firebending!" he said impatiently, just as soon as he had managed to pull it off the rest of the way. "What are you trying to imply?"

"Nothing, nothing." Sokka held up his hands. "Just never seen a guy so eager to take off his shirt before, that's all." As he spoke he waggled his eyebrow suggestively, giving Zuko a knowing smirk.

"It's not what you're—argh!" Zuko was still holding onto his shirt, unconsciously waving it around as he spoke. "You're a lot more likely to get hurt if your clothing catches, and the more clothing you're wearing, the more likely it is to catch. If Aang has any sense at all, he'll do the same."

At that moment, the aforementioned Avatar came running out into the courtyard to meet him, giving Zuko the welcome excuse to end the conversation and get back to doing his job. Even Sokka had the sense to shut up at that point, instead settling down on the front steps to watch. One by one, the others came out to join him as well. By the time he and Aang had finished their session, Katara had started cooking, which meant that Sokka had gone to pester her instead, and Zuko was free to wash up in peace.

Come afternoon, however, Sokka was at it again.

"Soooooo." He came to stand, hands on hips, in front of Zuko, who was sitting on the edge of the fountain sharpening his swords and was _not_ in the mood to be bothered. "I notice you're not training now."

"It was hot," Zuko said shortly. Had Katara been there, she would have told him that he was only making things worse by letting Sokka get a rise out of him. "What do you want, a written explanation?"

"Or, you know, an admission as to the _real_ reason you're—"

Whatever he'd been about to say was cut short by Zuko's shirt hitting him in the face.

"So let me guess," Sokka said with a grin the next day as Zuko took his turn to do the washing—which included, much to his annoyance, some of Sokka's particularly foul-smelling socks, not to mention Toph's dirt-coated… well, everything, really. "It was _hot_."

"Yeah," he snapped, scrubbing the item he currently held with a good deal more viciousness than was strictly necessary. "It was." In truth, he'd just cleaned his own clothes and didn't want to take the risk of splashing them with the filthy washwater—but by this point he was so sick of explaining things to Sokka that he honestly didn't care anymore.

"If you say so." A mischievous gleam had suddenly appeared in Sokka's eyes, and Zuko belatedly realized that the item he was currently scrubbing just so happened to be a pair of Sokka's pants.

Sokka ran away quickly enough when the stream of fire shot out at his feet. The rest of the day, however, he wouldn't stop muttering "Sifu _Hot_ man" under his breath whenever Zuko was in earshot.


	26. I was on a blimp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Gaang, Katara

"So tell us again how you did it, Zuko!"

The good side of his face was turning pink, he knew. He still wasn't used to all the attention—or at least, the _positive_ attention.

"Well, I was on a blimp—"

"You mean that you _ran_ over the ruins of the Air Temple as it crumbled under your feet and _leaped_ onto Azula's blimp!" Sokka clapped him on the shoulder. "Stop being so modest!"

"…right." He chanced a glance over at Katara, who was not sharing in her brother's enthusiasm; by contrast, she was sitting in the corner of the saddle as far from him as she could get, her arms crossed over her chest. Well, Katara still hated him, but that was a given. "So I was fighting with Azula—"

"Details, Sparky!" Toph interrupted. "I didn't get to see _any_ of this."

"W-well," Zuko was uncomfortably aware that everyone save Katara was now looking at him expectantly, "I kicked some flames at her midair until I landed. I ended up a bit lower down than she was, and ended up fighting my way up to get to her—"

As he recounted the experience blow by blow, Zuko found his eyes drawn once again to Katara. _All_ _of us were out there fighting_ , her posture said. _Why does_ _he_ _get all the attention just because he stopped being_ _evil_ _?_

"…and then we knocked each other off," he finished hastily, suddenly wanting nothing more than to get through the story and get the others' attention off of him as quickly as possible. "Azula managed to stop her fall against the canyon wall," he continued for Toph's benefit even though the others had seen this part, "and Katara caught me." The next part, he directed at the aforementioned waterbender even though she was still determinedly pretending that he didn't exist. "You saved my life out there. Um… thanks."

"Hmph."

It wasn't the response he had hoped for, but Zuko knew that that was all he was going to get for the time being. "So how did the rest of you get out of there?"

As Aang launched into the story of their aborted journey through the tunnel, Zuko continued to watch Katara. She might have started to see him as part of the team, but things between them were still far from okay. He was going to have to find out what was bothering her, and soon, because Zuko didn't know how much more of this he could take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sick of fics that portray Katara as hating Zuko to the point that she'd be willing to let him die. No, she wouldn't. I have a screenshot from the beginning of "Southern Raiders" that shows Katara saving him from falling to his death. There's a difference between being angry at someone and being willing to commit murder because of it.


	27. Lion Turtle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Aang

"So how did you—"

"Lion turtle."

"…I'm not even going to ask anymore."

He meant it, too. As far as Zuko was concerned, the "how" didn't matter—especially not when he had such mixed feelings about the fact that it had been done at all.

Aang seemed to know what he was thinking as well. "Look, Zuko, I know that you told me I'd have to kill your dad, but I couldn't—"

Zuko held up a hand to stop him. "It's okay, Aang. I'm glad you found a way to stop him without having to go against your principles."

Aang, however, didn't seem to be satisfied with that. Now he was looking at Zuko intensely, his eyebrows raised. "I was thinking about you too, you know," he said softly.

In turn, Zuko raised the one eyebrow that was left to him. "What about me?"

For a second, Aang's eyes shifted downward and he rubbed the back of his bald head, but then, he decided this wasn't something he could let go and looked back up at Zuko squarely. "How could you ask me to kill your own father?"

At that, his anger flared anew. "How do you _think?_ " he demanded, waving a hand in front of his face. "After what he did, not just to the world but to _me_ , me personally!" The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Friend or not, _Avatar_ or not, who was this _kid_ to think he could tell Zuko how to feel about the man who'd taken _everything_ from him?

Unfortunately, the yelling alone was enough to make a stab of pain shoot through his chest, and Zuko was forced to stop, taking the air in deep shuddering gasps, his clenched fist just short of pressing into his bandages even though he knew better than to touch. Aang said nothing, only waited calmly for his anger to burn itself out, which admittedly didn't take nearly as long as it usually did—Zuko was still too exhausted and hurt and _raw_ inside to be able to sustain it.

After a few minutes of silence, when it was clear that he wasn't going to say anything more, Aang spoke again. "You told me what you did on the Day of Black Sun. If you really think that killing your dad was the right thing to do, then why didn't you do it when you had the chance?"

"Lots of reasons." Destiny. He didn't want to become yet another usurper who killed his father for power. Even if his father did deserve to die, the thought of being the one to carry out that sentence made his stomach turn. "That doesn't mean I forgive him."

Once again, the silence dragged on for several minutes. "Do you remember what you said after the Southern Raiders?" Aang said at last. "You told me that I was right about what Katara needed."

"Yeah, I remember. And don't change the—"

"Well I've been thinking about it," Aang talked right over him, "and I think that in a way, you were right as well. _You_ were the one who actually listened to Katara, not me, and now I think I know why."

Zuko didn't respond. Instead, he took his turn to wait, because in spite of himself, he suddenly wanted to hear what Aang had to say.

"Only you can decide what you need to do in order to heal," he said at last. " _I_ still think it's forgiveness. You might decide otherwise, and I'll accept it if you do—but it isn't murder either." He paused, closed his eyes, and let out a sigh. "I just don't want to see you hurt yourself more than he already has." Standing, Aang allowed himself a stretch before picking up his staff and heading to the door. "Coronation's first thing tomorrow, and Katara said that you need your rest. Take it easy, okay?"

He was halfway to the door when, in spite of all the wrestling he'd been doing with himself, Zuko's curiosity finally won out. "So, about this lion turtle…"


	28. Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Ozai

" _Because I know my own destiny. Taking you down is the Avatar's destiny._ "

Ever since he'd been banished, he'd been fighting for his destiny—yet in all that time, he had never once thought that it would come to this.

As soon as he'd redirected the lightning, Zuko had run, away, out of his father's sight and to the cell where they were keeping Uncle (he'd be dead right now if not for Uncle, yet _another_ debt he owed the man and would never be able to repay), and he _still_ hadn't finished the job.

It had been the perfect opportunity. Though Zuko had come armed, he hadn't used his swords because it wasn't his destiny— _he_ couldn't single-handedly restore balance to the world. That was the Avatar's job. As for Zuko… well, he knew that the Avatar was not going to be able to defeat the Fire Lord without knowing firebending. With Uncle gone and the rest of his nation against them, Zuko didn't need to think too hard about the path that was laid out before him.

None of that explained why he hadn't done it after the Sun came back out, however. He'd redirected the lightning to the foot of the throne rather than at its occupant—a move to buy himself time, but hardly a deadly one, and he still didn't know why. No one who knew the story would have been able to claim that Zuko was making a bid for power—it would have been legitimate self-defense.

 _No one who knew_ , he thought, not missing the irony, as he threw another fire punch into the balloon's boiler to keep it aloft. _Like anyone would believe me now that I've officially declared myself a traitor._

Maybe it was because now that he knew his mother was alive, his father was the only remaining link to finding out what had happened to her, or maybe it was because, even after everything that the man had done to him, there was still some part of him that didn't want his father's blood on his hands. Those reasons were only part of it, however. The real reason still remained a mystery even to him.

_Destiny. It's a funny thing._


	29. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Iroh  
> Warning: Child abuse

He never screamed.

The day of the Agni Kai had been the last time, and as much as Iroh knew that that sound would haunt him for the rest of his life, it was the silence that came after that ripped his heart to shreds.

The first time the doctors let Iroh see him afterward, Zuko was insensible, no doubt drugged to keep the pain at bay—but his face was dry, and it stayed that way throughout the first days and weeks, eventually months and years of their hard journey at sea. If Zuko ever did shed tears during that time, it was when he was alone and could deny himself the need for comfort, if only because he had put himself in a position where none could be offered.

Whenever the ship's doctor changed the dressings on his face, he clenched his fists in the sheets but did not make a sound. The one time Iroh offered his own hand for his nephew to hold onto, Zuko swatted it away—"I'm not _weak!_ " Sometimes Zuko would allow him to sit there, and only to sit, but more often than not his response to even this bare gesture of caring was simply "Get _out!_ "

Iroh always obeyed, knowing that his continued presence would only agitate his nephew further and that he must not make the doctor's job harder than it already was. Still, he wished so badly that he could do something other than sit and watch, that Zuko would _let_ him do something.

Zuko, he knew, made a show of not feeling the physical pain because he didn't want anyone to know how much he was hurting inside, given what it had cost him the last time.

Iroh could have told him that some wounds needed to bleed before they could truly begin to heal. As many times as he tried, however, Zuko steadfastly refused to listen, and as much as he wished otherwise Iroh knew that this was one lesson his nephew would have to learn on his own.

The morning he awoke to find that not only had his nephew somehow miraculously found his way into Iroh's tent, but that he was apologizing with tears streaming down his face, Iroh knew that he finally had.


	30. (genre) Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Katara

They started saving each other's lives well before they'd started calling each other "friend"—even before she had stopped venting her anger on him in the form of everything from subtle teasing to pointed jabs at his trustworthiness.

The first time, he could tell she'd resented it—resented that it had been _him_ to push her out of the way of the deadly rockslide. Katara, he knew, would much rather it had been Aang, or her brother, or even Suki or Haru—someone for whose aid she could happily be grateful. Instead, she had to live with the fact that the firebender she was determined to hate had just saved her life.

"I'll take that as a thank you," Zuko called as she pushed her way out from under his arm.

Katara did thank him later, in her own way. Zuko didn't see what the others were doing after he ran toward his sister's airship—he could not afford to take his attention from his own battle, and for the next few minutes everything he knew was narrowed down to a world of sky, an uneven surface beneath his feet, and blue flames against his orange. When he and Azula traded their final blows, however, and he was knocked backward into nothingness, he only fell for a few seconds before a set of fingers closed around his wrist, and he was pulled firmly if a bit roughly down into Appa's saddle.

That had been _her_ hand, saving him from what would surely have been a fatal fall. _I pay my debts_ , her eyes said when they met his a moment later. _No matter whom I owe._

Even before she'd accepted him, they worked together as if they were made to be partners. In their stealth mission to locate the Southern Raiders, in the confrontations that happened after, and even during Sokka's training exercises, they'd synchronized with each other perfectly, without exchanging a single word, covering each other flawlessly with their complementary strengths. It was no coincidence that, when Zuko left to face Azula for the final time, he asked Katara to be the one to come with him.

The second time he saved her life, it wasn't just the principle of the matter. This time, he leaped in front of the lightning because the thought of Katara getting hurt over _his_ stupidity filled him with a sick dread the like of which he hadn't felt since that time Azula had wounded Uncle with a sneak attack.

Even worse was lying helpless on the ground while Katara fought for her life against his crazed sister. Blue flames danced at the edges of his vision and Azula's insane cackle filled his ears, but agony shot through his body every time he tried to move, and he could do _nothing_ to aid Katara—his _friend_ —against his sister, the prodigy, whose power was enhanced a hundredfold thanks to Sozin's Comet.

He had forgotten that Katara was a prodigy as well.

It wasn't until much later that he'd hear a blow-by-blow account of how she did it. At the time, all Zuko knew was that a pair of hands was turning him over, and that a cool, soothing sensation was working its way through his wound and slowly causing the pain to recede. When he was able to open his eyes once more, the first thing he saw was Katara's tear-streaked face hovering above him.

"Thank you, Katara."

She had saved his life. Once again, they were even. This time, however, her tears said that she wasn't just repaying a debt, or ensuring that Aang learned firebending.

"I think I'm the one who should be thanking you."

This time, the reason was far more important.


	31. (genre) Angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Iroh  
> Warning: Child abuse

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He'd been standing up for loyal Fire Nation citizens against the selfish plans of a general who cared more for his victories than for people's lives. A good leader would never do such a thing. Zuko had thought he would make his father proud by standing up to such tyranny, by demonstrating the initiative of a _real_ leader.

Now, he was only dimly aware of being carried to the palace infirmary, the razor against his skin, and Uncle's shaking hands encircling his own. The rest of his world was taken up by pain. Half of the left side of his face felt as if it were still on fire—the rest had no sensation at all. If anything, he felt a vague coldness, as if the area around his eye had been frozen instead of burned.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," he managed to get out. "I should have listened to you. It wasn't my place to speak."

Before he could say anything more, however, the physician held a cup to his lips; he swallowed on reflex, and immediately after the pain began to dull—though his consciousness went with it.

"It was not your fault, Prince Zuko," he thought he heard his uncle say before darkness took him.

* * *

The next time he awoke, Uncle was still there.

"Has Father been in to see me?" It was the first thing he asked, his tongue feeling thick and clumsy around the words.

Uncle looked away, then, the lines on his face seeming to deepen as he frowned. "No."

"I see." The pain was back, a constant burning ache. He reached a hand up to his face, but quickly pulled away when his fingers touched gauze.

"There will be scarring." At least Uncle wasn't trying to coddle him, or to pretend that everything was still okay. "It is unlikely that you will lose the eye—though the doctors informed me that it is still too early to tell the effects to your vision, if any."

"I see," he said again. In truth, Zuko had not quite caught up with the rest of the conversation: his mind was still on the first question he had asked, and its answer.

* * *

No sooner had he managed to stand under his own power than he got his final answer. A servant had brought it; his father couldn't even be bothered to deliver it in person.

They left the palace within the hour.


	32. (genre) Horror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Roku, Kyoshi, Gyatso

It was finally time to admit it: he had no idea what he was doing.

It was bad enough that he could have sworn he'd passed that same spirit-bush… thing… at least three times already. Now if only he could shake the feeling that it was watching him as well—and not in a good way, either.

 _Brilliant move, Avatar_ , Roku thought, holding his hands out in front of him in the guard position—he would gladly have sacrificed a limb to be able to firebend right now. _Go into the Spirit World without knowing how to get back out again. Sozin's going to have a good laugh when he hears about this._

Of course, that was assuming that he made it out to tell the story to Sozin at all. At the moment, the odds of that were looking increasingly unlikely.

Roku allowed himself a small shudder at the thought of his body slowly wasting away from lack of food and water while his spirit wandered in an endless circle without ever finding the way out. Those images were quickly superseded, however, by the thought of what might happen to his spirit _right now_ : the alternate turn he'd taken in his attempt to get out of the endless circle had very definitely been a mistake, as the light was growing dimmer with every step he took and it seemed that no matter which direction he turned, his path only brought him deeper into the shadows.

When _something_ thick and wet and very, very slimy reached out to wind around his wrists and ankles and oh dear _Agni_ his neck, Roku was unable to hold back his scream. His attempts to free himself quickly gave way to panicked flailing, which only prompted whatever-it-was that he couldn't see to tighten its grip, dragging him down into thick, oily water.

Where they took him or why they let him go, he never would figure out. All he knew was that suddenly, he broke the surface of the water once more, where he lay coughing up water on a strange surface that was too soft to be rock, too hard to be dirt, and too _oily_ to be either, wondering whether it was possible for a spirit to drown.

He _had_ to get out of here. As soon as he attempted to move, however, he was dragged into the water once more.

Roku quickly lost count of how many times he went under, how many times he somehow made it back to shore again to retch up water. By the time the woman appeared to him, he had no idea whether she was an enemy or an ally, a hallucination or yet another spirit out to eat him.

" _Honestly._ " Though she was as solid as she was, she somehow did not seem to be quite real. Maybe it was the makeup she wore, turning her face ghost-white while simultaneously emphasizing her strong features. " _How long have you been here?_ "

"Too… long," he managed to wheeze out. Shaking her head, the woman knelt down to grab him by the wrist; he was too insensible at that point to do anything other than allow her to drag him to his feet.

He followed her for what seemed like ages, until she finally stopped and pointed. " _Go that way,_ " she said. " _I don't want to see you back here until you know how to get out on your own._ " Her voice faded away into nothingness.

The next thing Roku knew, he was lying down somewhere and Sifu Tashi was holding up his head, encouraging him to drink something. Looking to the side, he saw that Gyatso was there as well.

"What… happened?" he rasped as soon as he had drank all the water that he could manage.

"That's what I was about to ask _you_." Even Gyatso's expression of abject terror was not sufficient to mask his curiosity. "You were on a Spirit World journey but then you kept sitting there and glowing for a _week_ , and we couldn't wake you up and we had just sent for someone who knew how to go in and get you back—"

"You will recover," Sifu Tashi interrupted, "but you managed to injure your spirit while you were away. I think that you had better not attempt any more Spirit World journeys until you know how to get back out again—not to mention how to better get in contact with your past lives."

Kyoshi, when he finally managed to contact her on his own terms, was far less understanding. As a matter of fact, she yelled at him for a full three hours before she deemed herself satisfied that Roku had learned his lesson.


	33. (genre) Humor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Gaang  
> Pairing: Background Kataang  
> Continuity: References "The Promise," "The Search," and "Shells." Familiarity with the comics unnecessary; no spoilers.

If there was one thing that Fire Lord Zuko could be sure of, it was that he would _never_ have to worry about his power going to his head—not with friends like the ones he had.

Aang never stopped calling him "Sifu Hotman." _Never._ It didn't matter how many times Zuko told him to stop, or that Aang was using horrendously outdated slang; he was still "Sifu Hotman" for years on end after he took the throne. When it finally occurred to him to point out that Aang was now a firebending master in his own right and therefore no longer Zuko's student, he switched to "Your Fireiness" or something else equally ridiculous. It was as if he didn't understand the concept of a proper title.

Sokka was even worse, because _he_ did it on purpose. "Bad Idea Lord" became Zuko's permanent nickname for five years straight after that little field trip with Azula—and Sokka continued to drag the title out any other time Zuko had an idea he didn't like. At least _he_ had the discretion not to humiliate Zuko in public—unlike Toph.

"Ow!" he proclaimed as the hard punch landed on his arm during what was supposed to be a stately procession—that one had nearly knocked him off his feet, and he'd definitely have a bruise later. "Can't you show your affection a little less forcefully?"

"Not my fault you have baby skin, Sparky."

Not long after, he caught her picking her nose during a diplomatic meeting with the Earth King.

"I'm embarrassed to be seen with you," he whispered while Kuei and Aang traded stories about their pets.

"That's you sighted people's problem, not mine." He had to dodge to avoid getting the booger on his face when she flicked it away.

Sometime during the second year of his reign, he found out that Suki had started up a self-defense class for some of the local girls while she wasn't on guard duty. Curious, he stopped by to watch, only to find that he was much less inconspicuous than he'd intended.

"Zuko! Perfect timing!" Suki smiled when her eyes landed on him. "Would you mind helping me demonstrate something to the girls? I need two assistants for this move."

Before he even fully processed what it was he'd agreed to, he and Sokka were both throwing punches at Suki at once. Next thing he knew, they were both on the ground in a tangle of limbs (he'd have to work out later which ones were his and which were Sokka's, because right now the pins and needles in his extremities told him that he wouldn't be moving for the next five minutes at least).

"Does she always make you be the class sparring dummy?" he whispered to Sokka as Suki explained the finer details of the move to her class.

"Eh, I've gotten used to it."

Meanwhile, one of the younger girls was raising her hand. "Did… did you just take out the Fire Lord?" Her eyes were wide with awe.

"Well, there are reasons that I'm _his_ bodyguard and not the other way around."

Even Katara had her moments—especially after the birth of his daughter.

Zuko had been the first member of their circle to have children. As such, it was only to be expected that he'd get some extra attention because of it. What he did _not_ expect was Katara's insistence on doting on the baby at every available opportunity.

"Oh, aren't you adowable?" Zuko knew that he was making a less-than-dignified face at her baby talk—not to mention the sappy expression on her husband's face as she turned to him. "Aang, doesn't it make you want one?"

"Yeah, Katara," he returned as his hand moved lower down her back in a way that was definitely _not_ innocuous. "Yeah, it does."

Zuko had to kick them out of the nursery for fear that they would decide to start making their own right then and there.

"Katara, you're spoiling her," he said about six months later as she held Izumi in her lap, offering her yet _another_ sweet. The child grabbed the sugary confection in her pudgy hands and stuffed it into her mouth before Zuko could do anything to stop it, and he suppressed a groan. If Izumi got sick later, _Katara_ would be the one to clean it up.

"Oh, lighten up, Zuko. I'm just practicing for when I have my own." Though Katara had retained her slender build well into adulthood, there was now a curve to her stomach that definitely hadn't been there before. "Besides, she _is_ a princess—awen't you?" she continued, turning back to Izumi. "You're supposed to be a little bit spoiled, yes you are, yes you are!"

Zuko bit back the urge to remind her of how well she'd gotten along with the _last_ princess she'd met. That would have been cruel, even by his family's standards.

Anyway, he figured, it wasn't all bad. Izumi got spoiled far worse by her grandfather (if that was even possible), no matter how many times he had lectured Uncle on the topic. Besides, it was much better for Izumi to be spoiled by her "Auntie Katara" than whatever would have resulted from her meeting his sister—the very thought of Azula even knowing he _had_ a daughter made him shudder.

Besides, no matter how much his friends might embarrass or aggravate him, they were still his friends. Yes, he might complain about how much they were driving him up the wall, but in reality, they were one of the things that were keeping him sane.

After all, he'd seen what happened to people who never had anyone to keep them in check.


	34. Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Iroh

"Uncle? What does that song mean?"

"Hm? Which song is that, nephew?"

"The one about the four seasons. I hear you sing it all the time, but I still have no idea what it means."

"Ah, yes. That is one of my favorites." Without prompting, Uncle's melodic voice rose in the familiar tune. "Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall. Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall. Four seasons, four loves. Four seasons, four loves." He hummed as he finished. "An excellent song."

Knowing that this was Uncle's way of telling him to think it through himself, but having no idea where else to start, Zuko ventured a more specific question. "Four seasons makes sense, I guess. But why is it talking about four loves?"

"An excellent question, my nephew. As we have four seasons, four nations and four elements to bend, we also have four different stages of our lives—and four different ways to love. Winter is the first."

Zuko nodded but did not answer, allowing his cup of tea to warm him as he held it between his hands. It was late, the embers of the dying fire the only source of light, and Zuko did not want to break the gentle rhythm of his uncle's speech—his hair had long ago turned from gray to white, and though he didn't often show it, Zuko could tell that his health was failing. He didn't know how many more lessons he'd have the chance to hear, and wanted to make the most of what time they did have.

"When we are born," Uncle continued, "it is to a world that is barren and dangerous to us because we do not yet understand it. The first thing most of us know is the love of our parents."

Zuko had to look away then. The hurt was an old one, but it would always be there—and sometimes, the pain was more noticeable than others. This was one of those times.

The arm that wrapped around his shoulders was, by this point, not unexpected—but it was a reassurance that he welcomed more every time it was given. For a few minutes they simply sat there, Uncle's thumb moving gently back and forth across his shoulder.

"Families—true families—will love one another without condition and without regard for disappointments," he continued. "This is a love that endures even throughout the harshest of winters—like water beneath the ice."

He fell silent then, and did not speak again until Zuko nodded, dipping his head in brief acknowledgement before looking back up again. Yes. He understood.

"As we grow out of infancy, we enter the spring of our lives, the time when we first truly become aware of others." Uncle's arm, he noticed, had not left his shoulders. "This is when we discover our friends, pillars of strength to support us even when our family no longer can.

"We enter the summer of our lives when we grow old enough to discover romance. Here is a passion that burns brightly indeed, and includes the joys of the body as well as those of the heart." Though he was a grown man now and well out of his teens, Zuko was still young enough to feel his face grow hot at the words. Uncle only laughed as he withdrew his arm.

Once the chuckles had died down, they fell silent once more, watching the embers as they slowly faded. It was almost too dark to see by this point, but though Zuko could have easily summoned a flame to his hand, he did not. The peaceful darkness, he thought, was better right now.

"What about fall?" he asked at last.

It was a long, long time before Uncle spoke again. "You are not yet old enough to understand this, my nephew—but someday, you will, which is why I am going to tell you anyway." He took a deep breath. Zuko waited. "There is a form of love without attachment," he continued, "without the selfish desire of wanting to cling to things that one cannot hold. This is the kind of love that is content to leave the world, knowing that one has left something in it that is worthwhile."

Uncle had been right—he did not understand, had never experienced anything like it. Still, however, he knew what Uncle was trying to say.

"I understand enough," he whispered, suddenly glad that the darkness hid his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Four Loves" Iroh is talking about are loosely based on the Four Loves of ancient Greek philosophy: storge, philia, eros, and agape. I wish I could have found an Eastern equivalent, but I didn't have a whole lot of time to do the research on this one.


	35. Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Sozin, Roku  
> Pairings: Roku/Ta Min, Sozin/OC, one-sided Rozin  
> Warning: Marital rape, suicide

They hadn't even spoken before.

The girl was more than sixty years his junior and shaking with fright. In all honesty, she wasn't even that attractive—but she came from a good (if impoverished) family, and more importantly, she was young and healthy, and that was the only thing that mattered to him. Sozin didn't want to do this more than once.

For a long time now, the Fire Sages had been pressuring him. Never forcefully—they did not dare to order him, of course—but every time he met with them, the topic somehow seemed to work its way into the conversation: Sozin was over eighty and an only child, and he still did not have an heir.

Eventually, even he could ignore it no longer. He'd picked a girl—he'd cared nothing but that she belonged to a loyal Fire Nation family and that she was fertile. It was not even necessary to court her: her parents had been all too happy to grant him her hand in turn for the small payment and high prestige that would come to their family in turn. They had met for the first time on the morning of their wedding.

When he took her to bed that night, it was with a curt order. She cried out in pain when he took her, but did not dare to make another sound even though there were now tears streaming down her face. As soon as he was finished, he ordered her gone, and she fled in a state of half-dress with a distinct limp she hadn't had before. Sozin, for his part, lay naked between the sheets, not even bothering to clean himself up.

He could not stop thinking of another wedding, a very long time ago.

Roku had looked so _happy_ then. It was almost the same as when they had been teenagers, teasing, sparring, taking joy in each other's company—but the one by his side was no longer Sozin, it was some _woman_ , a girl who had always made Roku blush but whom Sozin had never truly believed would come between them, if only thanks to the fact that Roku could not even work up the courage to speak to her.

He'd touched himself then, back in the days of their teens and the night of Roku's wedding, fantasizing his best friend in his arms. The former had been frantic, clumsy, urgent, and afterward he'd lain alone, satisfied and yet at the same time not, wondering whether he dared tell, if Roku would greet the knowledge with a welcome smile or turn away in disgust.

The second time, he had received his answer, and Sozin had lain awake late that night too. He'd shot a fair number of fire blasts at the walls when his hand wasn't busy elsewhere.

Why, he wondered, could he not have what Roku had had, even though he couldn't have Roku?

Sozin summoned his wife to his chambers every night until she conceived. From then on, he did not see or speak to her again if he could avoid it. When his son was born, he named the child but little else, allowing the servants to see to the raising of him. His wife took her own life before the boy was even weaned.

In the end, Sozin died alone.


	36. Funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Iroh, Lu Ten  
> Warning: Character death

"I'm sorry, my son."

Iroh knew what it was to blame oneself for every injury and hardship suffered by one's child, no matter how minor, regardless of whether it was one's own fault or not. What was immeasurably worse was knowing that this _was_ his fault, and that there was nothing he could do to make it right.

 _He_ had instilled his son with the Fire Nation's propaganda (tragic, he thought, that only now did he realize what it was), _he_ had encouraged Lu Ten's military career, _he_ had brought Lu Ten with him for his insane campaign. Now, his son had been laid to rest on foreign soil, and Iroh was left with nothing but his grief.

Was this the grief he had brought upon others?

Many of the soldiers who had fallen to his men had been young. At least some of them must have had living parents. What must _they_ have felt, knowing their sons would never come home?

_At least their parents can be proud that they died defending their country. I have to live with the fact that my nation is the aggressor._

Iroh might have deserved some share in the grief that he had laid upon others—but Lu Ten had not deserved to die.

_"Dad… I can't sleep."_

It was what Lu Ten had always said whenever he wanted Iroh to sing him to sleep, and so Iroh had sang to his son one last time before his eyes had closed for good.

 _Please find peace in your next life, and may that life be free from others' wars for power._ Slowly, Iroh stood. _I may never be able to bring back the lives I have taken… but I promise, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you—all of you—have peace in your next._


	37. Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Ursa, Iroh, Lu Ten  
> Continuity: References "The Search. No familiarity necessary; no spoilers.

"Hi! Are you my new Aunt Ursa?"

Startled, she looked up. The boy was no older than ten, of stocky build, and very cheerful-looking; his brown hair was pulled into a topknot that was quickly coming loose.

"My name is Ursa." She hastily wiped her eyes as she turned to face him. "Who are you?"

Instead of answering her, he blinked, cocking his head to the side. "Why are you crying?"

Her mouth opened to give some platitude—this child didn't need to know the hardships of her life—but before she could think what to answer, a man came running up from the same direction she assumed the boy had come.

"Lu Ten, you mustn't bother people who are seeking their privacy." At the sound of his voice, the boy grinned and ran over to him instead. While they were exchanging their greetings, Ursa took a moment to assess this newcomer.

He was also of stocky build, with the same brown hair as the boy and laugh lines around his eyes—the two of them looked so much alike that there was no question they were father and son. She vaguely recalled seeing him at the wedding, now; he had been at the front of the room, close to where she was, but they hadn't spoken, and Ursa had been too deep in her own grief to pay much mind to those around her at all.

He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately—his topknot was now thoroughly ruined—before turning back to her. "I apologize if my son has been disturbing you. Lu Ten means well, but he can be a bit overeager at times." His eyes crinkled with concern as he, too, got a good look at her face. "Is something wrong?"

 _Everything is wrong_ , she wanted to say, but swallowed the words before they could come out. The court was far different from the life she had grown up with, and Ursa didn't yet know whether this man was worthy of her trust. "I'll be fine," she said, wiping the final tears from her eyes as she stood with the dignity her hasty lessons had taught her a princess must maintain at all times. "I don't believe that we've been introduced."

"Of course; how very rude of me." He bowed. "My name is Iroh. I do believe that I'm your brother-in-law."

From then on, seeing one or both of them became a regular occurrence. Lu Ten was full of energy—not to mention never-ending questions.

"Did you live in a small village? What was it like? Do you have any brothers or sisters? Are you a firebender? What did you do before you married Uncle Ozai?"

There was one question, however, that he asked with a hesitation that had never been present before.

"Aunt Ursa? What was your mother like?"

Ozai, she knew, didn't want her talking about the life she had left behind, and so she had always deflected Lu Ten's more personal questions, knowing that he would move on to the next before he had even figured out that she hadn't given him a real response. This time, however, Ursa felt compelled to answer.

"My mother is… was… a good woman. She and my father have always been good to me. She went out of her way to keep me out of trouble." _Like the kind that came to my village not two months ago to offer me his son's hand._

"Oh." Lu Ten looked down then, his voice small. "Is she dead?"

Thankfully, Ursa was saved from answering when Iroh came to fetch the boy for his firebending lessons.

"Lu Ten has never known his mother," Iroh explained later as they shared a cup of tea in the gardens. Her nephew—when had she started thinking of him as such?—had played himself into exhaustion and fallen asleep right there on the grass, and Iroh ran a hand fondly through his hair as he spoke. "I have done the best I can and I know that he is happy, but… he has always wondered what might have been."

"I see." Suddenly, she could not think of anything to say, and so she said the only thing she could. "I'm sorry."

"My wife died far sooner than she should have—but what's done is done, and no amount of grieving will change what happened. Now, the only thing we can do is look to the future, and make the best of what we do have."

The words, it seemed, caused something in her to break; she choked up, and suddenly her story was pouring out of her before she could stop it. "There was… someone else."

"Oh?" Iroh said nothing more—but when he set down his teacup and turned his gaze on her, Ursa knew she had his full attention.

"He asked me to marry him the same night Ozai came. I couldn't refuse—not an offer from the Fire Lord himself." She found that she was shaking, her hands over her face, and _now_ the tears were falling freely, heedless of what they were doing to her makeup or of the blotchy redness that would soon be showing on her face.

It was a long, long time before either of them spoke again; Iroh let her cry into her hands for a few minutes before he ventured further comment.

"Ursa," he said at last. "I am truly sorry for your situation. Know that if I could do anything for you, I would." A warm hand came to rest on her shoulder; she started, and looked up to meet her brother-in-law's warm gaze. "I know that this is not the life that you would have chosen for yourself—but it is still your life. I would hate to see you lose sight of what good things you still have."

At that moment, however, Lu Ten sat up and rubbed his eyes with a yawn, and neither of them said anything more on the matter. A week later, Iroh returned to the front. They did not get the chance to talk in private again before he left.

* * *

"I wish Dad didn't have to go away all the time." Lu Ten was dangling his bare feet in the turtle duck pond, and Ursa felt it wasn't her place to tell him that such behavior was unbecoming of a prince—especially when she was sure his father would have said no such thing. "The Fire Nation needs to hurry up and win this war. Then Dad will be home all the time, and I won't have to worry about him getting hurt anymore." He threw the last few scraps of bread out onto the water before slumping down to rest his chin morosely in his hands.

"I'm sure your father will be fine." It was all Ursa could think to say, and she dearly hoped she had not just lied to her nephew—Iroh might have been a renowned general, the Dragon of the West, but this was war. The unexpected could happen at any time.

"I'm going to go fight with him," Lu Ten declared, sitting back up again. "As soon as I'm old enough to join the army. He said I'd have to wait until I'm sixteen." He pouted slightly at the notion—to a boy his age, six years might as well have been an eternity.

Ursa couldn't help it: she laughed. After all, she had been ten once too, asking her mother when she'd be allowed to do this or that and balking at the answer because it had seemed like _forever_. "Don't worry, Lu Ten," she said when he narrowed his eyes at her, no doubt wondering whether she was making fun of him. "It'll happen sooner than you know it, I promise."

They sat in silence for a while, watching the turtle ducks swim. When Lu Ten spoke again, it was with his usual tendency of bouncing from topic to topic without any logic that she could fathom. "Hey, Aunt Ursa? Do you know any good stories?"

For a moment, she pondered. "Well," she said at last, "are you familiar with the tale of Love Amongst the Dragons?"


	38. Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Iroh, soon-to-be Izumi  
> Pairing: Open to interpretation

"Nephew? …ah, I see."

Zuko looked terrible. Dark shadows stood out under his good eye, his hair was straggling out of its topknot, and his posture was slumped in a way that could not have been healthy. Iroh had returned to the Fire Nation with the intention of congratulating his nephew—but under the circumstances, it seemed that further action was in order.

"I think that what you need is a nice cup of calming tea."

Iroh shooed the servants away while he brewed a pot of jasmine for them both. Zuko took his cup listlessly and drank it down in one long swallow; Iroh immediately poured him another. Though his nephew did not venture any comment as to what was troubling him, Iroh could guess well enough.

"Zuko, I can assure you that whatever it is you are experiencing right now, there is no man in your position who has not felt the same. No matter your fears, everything will be fine."

"I know. I mean… I think I know." Zuko's hand curled tighter around his cup. "I just—"

For a second more, Iroh looked at him, taking in his sunken cheeks and the slight shaking of his hands—it seemed that Zuko had not been eating right in addition to his apparent lack of sleep. "Come with me," he said at last, standing. His nephew only looked at him dully. "I have arranged for transportation to Ember Island," he explained. "A brief time of rest, away from your duties, will do you some good."

"But—I can't _now_ —"

"I am doing this at your wife's request. She wrote to me last week to say that she is also worried—your state of constant agitation hasn't been good for her either." He held out his hand, and at long last, Zuko reached out to take it.

A short boat ride later, they were walking along the beach—a private beach, reserved for the royal family, so they would not be disturbed. Zuko had exchanged his fancy court robes for the simple traveling outfit he'd favored during his days with the Avatar's group, and he wore his hair loose. Even after all these years, he'd kept it just long enough to pull into a topknot—and not an inch longer. Shame, he wondered? No—they had talked extensively in the days and weeks after Sozin's comet, and Zuko had to have known by now that Ozai's bad choices were not his fault.

They had walked for nearly five minutes before Zuko broke the silence. "Katara tells us it's going to be a girl." As he said it, his face acquired a special kind of softness, one that Iroh recognized with more than a touch of wistfulness.

"Excellent news, my nephew! The child and mother are both healthy?"

"Yes." As he said it, however, some of the nervousness seemed to come back, and he let out a sigh. "Of course, there are things that even Katara can't spot, but… as far as she can tell, there's nothing wrong."

"That is indeed wonderful to hear." It was not, however, at the root of the problem, and Iroh peered at his nephew carefully. "Zuko… you do want this child?" He knew from personal experience that the Fire Sages could be rather… _persistent…_ when it came to matters of succession, but it was far better to let some things happen in their own time. This was one of them.

"What? Of course I do! I just…" They had reached the beach house now, and Zuko looked up at the large hole that had been blown through the wall right below the eaves—there was a story behind that hole, Iroh could tell. "I don't have any idea what I'm doing."

Iroh gestured him to sit, and they both did, on the side of the fountain. "Mom disappeared when I was a kid," Zuko continued. "The only thing I learned from Ozai was what not to do. The only real example I have is you, but…" Though he didn't say the rest, it was there in his silence: _I can never be you._

"Zuko," he said at last, once it was clear that his nephew would not speak again. "You need to trust yourself more. Remember, I have seen you with children, many times. If I thought there was any cause for concern, I would have told you so a long time ago."

"But—"

"Of course, no one expects you to do this alone. If you are ever in need of help or advice, I will be available to you however I can."

"Thank you, Uncle."

They talked much longer, Iroh answering his questions and giving his reassurances until well after the Sun had dipped below the horizon. Zuko's fears were not entirely assuaged, he could tell—but that was only to be expected, and besides, extreme confidence would have been even more worrying than the case of nerves that Zuko had started out with. In time, he knew, it would ease on its own.

When the child was born, Zuko put her into Iroh's arms first, telling him to say hello to his new granddaughter.


	39. Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Ozai, Iroh, Zuko, Izumi  
> Warning: Referenced abuse

"I have no son."

He had said the same thing every time his brother had visited him—yet every time, his brother had come back. Ozai had nearly driven himself mad wondering what it would take to make the man go away for good.

"Then I suppose," Iroh said, his voice heavy, "that you do not have a granddaughter either."

This was a new one. First, Iroh had come to tell him that Zuko had put a peaceful end to the war—as if he couldn't have figured _that_ out for himself. Then, it had been that Zuko was working hand in hand with the Avatar to found a place without loyalty to any nation, where people from anywhere in the world could come together to exchange ideas. Ursa had been found, and was returning to the capital. Zuko was getting married.

"The child was born healthy," Iroh continued. "The entire nation is celebrating—but more importantly, I have never seen Zuko so overjoyed."

"Why are you telling me this?" It was a question Ozai had been wondering from the beginning, but only now was he sufficiently curious—not to mention bored—to ask. "You know I care nothing for what the boy does with his life, yet you still insist on telling me. You have already taken Zuko to replace your own son, so why can you not have him and leave me in peace?"

Sighing, Iroh settled to the floor across from him. "Because, brother, after having experienced the pain of losing my own son, I still have not figured out how you could throw yours away so callously. Zuko still hurts, you know—he's going to carry your scars for the rest of his life. Because, though you have reminded me again and again of what is, that is never going to change what should have been."

After he had spoken, Iroh fell silent and waited, but Ozai would not answer him, and when it became clear that he was not going to speak at all Iroh got up with another sigh and left.

Ozai barely registered that he never came again.

He did see the girl, but only once. She was a skinny thing, deceptively delicate-looking, the gold-rimmed glasses she wore only adding to her air of quiet bookishness—but there was real steel in her eyes when they met his, and she stood before him with a calm, collected air, every movement precise and calculated in a way that spoke of firebending mastery. Though Ozai had long ago lost track of how much time had passed, he guessed by her appearance that she was in her late teens—that she had just reached the age where Zuko could no longer tell her "no."

For some reason, he was expecting her to speak, to lecture or question him as his brother once had, but she never did. Instead, she only stared at him, looking him up and down with her calculating gaze before shaking her head slowly, turning, and walking out of his cell.

Ozai never saw her—or any other member of his family—ever again.


	40. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Roku

There was no doubt that Roku loved his friends. It wasn't until he joined the Air Nomads, however, that he also learned the joys of solitude.

At first, he had felt so lonely and so out of his depth. Only a few days ago, he had said goodbye to Sozin—it would be years, he knew, before they saw each other again. It was the first time he had ever been out of the Fire Nation, and this place in the mountains was far too _cold_ , the air so dry that his lips were cracked and bleeding by the second day, not to mention thin enough that he had a series of dizzy spells for a full week before he acclimated, and the monks made him lie still and drink more water than he thought there was room for in his stomach. The beds were too hard. The food was too bland. Not a day passed by when he didn't think of home.

"Air is the element of freedom," the monks told him during his first bending lesson. He didn't understand, at the time—what was freedom, when he had been offered no choice but to be the Avatar, no choice but to come _here_ , to this lonely temple in the middle of nowhere, when he knew that Sozin and Ta Min were back in the Fire Nation waiting for him?

Then, however, Gyatso had snuck out with him in the dead of night.

"Come on!" he pleaded, tugging Roku's arm from over his eyes, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the latter would much rather have stayed in bed. "You _have_ to come out with me!"

In the end, he'd given in—if only because he knew that he was getting no more sleep today whether he went with Gyatso or not. The other boy's barely-contained enthusiasm when Roku took up his glider and followed him to the highest peak on the mountain was reward enough. As they sat in the chill air, Roku constantly shivering and breathing fire into his hands, they watched the sky.

It was like nothing Roku had ever seen. The night was moonless, and the stars above them were diamond-bright, the thin air making them look close enough to reach out and touch. As they continued to watch, other stars began to fall all around them, until it was like silver rain that did not wet their skin or even touch them at all.

Somehow, Roku knew that the show would not have been half as brilliant had he watched it from the Fire Nation.

As Roku got older and neared his airbending mastery, the monks became increasingly open to letting him go out alone. Sometimes he would take his glider and disappear for days, visiting the most remote places he could find. He watched sunrises and sunsets, watching the stars come out one by one or fade away into the lightening sky. He sat in the forest, seeing how long he could keep perfectly still until the animals came to him of their own accord, sniffing at him shyly before scurrying away once more. He flew over volcanoes, coming as close as he dared and watching with awe as magma and hot ash spewed into the sky. Once, he simply flew over the ocean, entranced by the way the sunlight sparkled over the waves.

Each time, when he returned the monks would only smile at him knowingly.

When Roku achieved his mastery, the monks informed him that this would normally be the point where he shaved his head and received his tattoos—though very few who were not born into the Air Nomads chose to have this done.

Roku refused, knowing that to do so would give no offense. As much as he had learned to treasure here, he was still Fire Nation, and did not like the idea of being marked permanently or of losing his hair—in his home nation, such a thing would have been seen as a mark of disgrace. The refusal carried with it no implication, no insult to his former masters, and they parted ways on the best of terms and with a new understanding.

Air was, after all, the element of freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a surprisingly positive chapter for the prompt that was given. Aside from being something of a tribute to Ursula K. LeGuin's short story "Solitude," it might be related to an essay I read recently on BBC Earth on only truly feeling alive when we are close to the natural world.


	41. Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Aang, Korra  
> Pairing: Background Kataang  
> Continuity: Assumes prior knowledge of Seasons 1-3 of Legend of Korra. Major spoilers for seasons 2 and 3.  
> Warning: Referenced character death

The Avatar would never truly die.

Zuko knew that. He also knew that everyone was reincarnated eventually, save those select few who managed to attain enlightenment and move on to something else. Aang, however, was the only one he'd know for sure in his next incarnation.

It had come as a surprise when Katara had written to tell him that Aang's health was deteriorating, and that not even she could do anything about it. The next time they saw each other in person she cried all the tears she had been holding back for Aang's sake while Zuko gently rubbed her back; she explained, in between sobs, that his hundred years in the iceberg had taken a toll on his body and that he didn't have much longer to live.

There was nothing Zuko could tell her. Having already witnessed the death of his own wife, he knew that it got easier with time—but that didn't mean he had forgotten how much it hurt.

At least they got to say their goodbyes. Aang had grown very frail by the last time Zuko saw him: he was skin on bones, and his face had acquired an unhealthy cast of ashen gray—but they still greeted each other as warmly as ever, the Avatar and the Fire Lord meeting once more after all these years, and Aang grasped Zuko's hand with a grip that was surprisingly firm.

He never forgot Aang's last words to him: " _We'll meet again._ "

* * *

After the funeral, they all went their separate ways once more. It was years before any of them contacted each other again.

The next message he got was from Sokka. It was deceptively simple—only three words—but they were three words that sent a jolt through his heart that was strangely akin to lightning:

_We've found her._

* * *

The first time he saw the girl, she seemed so small and fragile, a scared five-year-old huddled in her father's arms—yet she looked at him with surprisingly bold blue eyes, gaze ghosting over his scar with open curiosity and perhaps even a touch of recognition, and Zuko could not help but smile as he knelt down to her level and introduced himself.

"Korra's normally not nearly that quiet," Tonraq explained later, after they had finalized their arrangements on what to do with Zaheer and his gang—it was the first time they'd met, but Sokka had spoken very highly of the man, and Zuko knew that with his advancing age and no children of his own, he was seriously considering the matter of succession. Zuko, after having fought side by side with Tonraq, not to mention having seen both his fierce protectiveness and tender concern for his daughter, was inclined to approve of Sokka's choice. "She's just shaken up."

"What child wouldn't be, after what she's been through?" Zuko wished he could say he had no idea what anyone would want with such a young girl—but he knew better. Whatever it was the kidnappers had intended to do with her, they had not seen her as a child, but as the Avatar.

The next time they met, Korra was a full-grown adult and a fully realized Avatar. In her letters, Katara had described her as headstrong and eager to make her mark, but loyal to those she cared about and with a good heart—"a lot like you were at that age," she had added only half-jokingly. Lin and Tenzin, by contrast, had used words like "bullheaded" and "disrespectful." "A fine Avatar we've got," Lin grumbled over the radio as she described supervising the cleanup after Korra's first visit to Republic City. "She never thinks anything through!" "She has no self-control!" Tenzin lamented in turn as he bemoaned the destruction of a centuries-old relic. Both descriptions, Zuko supposed, could have been applied to him as well in his teenage years. When he met with Korra, however, Zuko saw something else entirely.

She was like Aang.

It wasn't that they were alike in their behavior or mannerisms. On the surface, Korra acted nothing like Aang. She was angry where he'd been calm and bold where he'd been polite. It wasn't what he saw on the surface, however; no, what he noticed in Korra was on a much deeper level. She wanted to do what was right, even if she did need some guidance in figuring out what that was and even if it involved breaking a few rules along the way. She cared about people, sometimes to the point of being willing to sacrifice herself. When she asked for his guidance, Zuko was more touched than he could have admitted.

"I was often Aang's council and I would love to be yours."

Then, after he had told her what he thought Aang would have done, Korra gave him a gift that was far beyond anything he had ever expected or hoped for, even from the Avatar.

"You… spoke with my uncle?"

"Yeah. In the Spirit World. A couple of times, actually."

She said it so casually, as if she had no idea that he felt as if his heart had skipped a beat—and why should she? Korra was, after all, not Aang. She was a new person, without any of Aang's experiences; thanks to what had happened at Harmonic Convergence she could not even access his memories anymore.

Unfortunately, they were forced to part ways before the conversation could continue. Adult though she was, Fire Lord though she was, Izumi was still his daughter, and the thought of her falling into Zaheer's hands after what he had done to the Earth Queen made his blood run cold. Defending her was Zuko's first priority—care for the living had to come before grieving the dead.

He'd meant to ask for further details after the battles were finished, provided they all survived. When Korra returned from her fight with Zaheer barely conscious and too grievously injured to stand, however, Zuko knew that it would have to wait. He could not ask this girl for more than she had already given, even if only to focus on him rather than on her own recovery. Whatever the strength of his feelings, however high his hopes, now was not the time—and maybe it never would be.

Even with his knowledge of what might never be, however, Zuko still found himself looking to the future with even more hope than he'd had before. After all, if this new Avatar had taught him anything, it was that even death was not the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish that we'd gotten to see Zuko and Korra interact a bit more, especially given the blatantly obvious parallels that were being drawn between them at the beginning of Season 4.


	42. Destruction/Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko

_Fire is life—not just destruction._

Zuko knew that. He really did. At times like this, however, it grew increasingly harder to remind himself of that fact.

The swath of black stretched nearly as far as the eye could see, all that remained of what had once been a lush forest. Puddles still littered the ground from where Aang had raised the ocean to put out the fires. Zuko could only be grateful that Sokka, Suki, and Toph had taken down the airship fleet and that Aang had stopped his father—otherwise most of the Earth Kingdom would have looked like this.

As it was, the burned region was a blight on an otherwise beautiful land. It looked like—

It looked like a scar.

Zuko gave a sigh as he secured his hot air balloon—a small, one- or two-person carrier quite unlike the great blimps that had rained fire down on the land only a week prior—before moving out into the wasteland.

Ash crunched under his feet with every step. More than once he put his weight on what had looked to be a solid log, only for it to give way beneath him and swirl away on the breeze. There was no birdsong, no scurrying of small animals. The silence was deafening. Ever since he'd landed, a question had been niggling at the back of his mind, and now it was gnawing him in a way that could no longer be ignored: _What was the purpose? Even if he did conquer the Earth Kingdom, why would_ _anyone_ _want to rule over_ _this_ _?_

It was getting dark. Zuko should leave, he knew—he was supposed to meet with the Earth King tomorrow, he'd told the others he would be joining them in Ba Sing Se that night, and Uncle would start to worry if he didn't show up soon. Nevertheless, he could not seem to tear himself from this spot.

Aang had offered to accompany him. Zuko, however, had refused—he'd needed to do this alone.

In the end, he thought, Aang had understood. Before they'd parted ways back in the Fire Nation capital, the other boy had handed him an acorn—a small, delicate thing, but it had been a surprisingly solid weight in his palm.

"Take this with you," Aang had said. "It might help, when you see it."

Now, Zuko held the tiny seed in his hand as he stared out over the vast swath of destruction. Slowly, he knelt to bury the acorn amongst the ashes.

It didn't seem like enough—but it was all that he could do.

Eventually, Zuko knew, the land would heal itself, the ashes fertilizing the soil for the next generation of trees to grow. At the moment, however, the most prominent thought in his head was that it shouldn't have happened at all.

The world, however, would not wait for that—or for him. Shaking his head to clear it, Zuko made his way back to where he'd left the balloon and prepared to continue his journey.


	43. Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko  
> Continuity: Not comics compliant  
> Warning: Attempted murder, description of injury

It was the fourth time this _month_.

Zuko would have thought he'd have gotten used to it by now, especially given all the changes he'd made since taking the throne. He knew full well that select—and, more importantly, vocal—segments of the population were angry at the profits they'd lost when he'd not only ended the war, but removed Fire Nation rule from the colonies as well. Somehow, however, each new assassination attempt always managed to take him by surprise.

The plan he'd had was simple. Straightforward. End the war. Bring peace to the world. No one had told him it would be met with such strong resistance by some factions, that the very act of lying down to sleep was now tantamount to taking his own life in his hands—or maybe, as Uncle would say, he simply hadn't thought things through.

Now, Zuko sat still and made a point of breathing slowly as the palace physician treated his (thankfully minor) injuries. It had never occurred to him on the day of his coronation that he would acquire several new scars in the first year of his reign. At least the blade hadn't been poisoned this time—cauterizing his own wound to stop the uncontrollable bleeding was not an experience he cared to repeat.

"Fire Lord?"

Looking up, he saw that the Captain of the Guard was standing in the doorway, and nodded for her to come in. She did so, going down on one knee before him and holding a fist against her chest. "Sir. We've finished questioning the assassin."

At this point, Zuko wanted nothing more than to fall back into bed for the next twelve hours or so and not deal with this until he'd caught up on nearly three months' worth of late nights, early mornings, and midnight alarms like this one—he could count on one hand the number of times he'd had a decent night's sleep since the day he'd taken the throne—but he knew that that wasn't an option. Instead, he gritted his teeth against the pain of the stitches going into his shoulder and forced himself to focus. "Report."

Pushing herself to her feet, she clasped her hands behind her back and stared straight ahead—not making eye contact, but then again, she never did. "According to our records, the assassin is a professional who kills for hire. When we questioned him, he revealed his employer to be a man named Yuan."

Zuko felt his breath catch at her words. He knew Yuan, had met with him on several different occasions, and though the man had never displayed any overt hostility, Zuko also knew that he had vested interests in the Earth Kingdom colonies.

Yuan also had two small children—twins, a boy and a girl. His wife was a noblewoman who had never learned a trade and had no means to support herself or her family.

"Sir?" She was waiting for an answer, and Zuko already knew what was necessary. Putting it off would not make it any easier.

"Send a contingent of guards to Yuan's house to arrest him. Only use as much force as is absolutely necessary. I'll decide what to do with him in the morning."

She did not answer, only saluted him with palm over fist, before turning back to the door, and Zuko knew that she would do as he said, and do it reliably. The woman had worked for his father, and he had been wary of her loyalties at first, but Uncle had endorsed her highly, and she had proven herself again and again during the time that she'd worked for him. Now, Zuko trusted her completely.

In the doorway, however, she turned around, and this time she was meeting his eyes as she never did when giving reports. "Fire Lord Zuko? Will you be okay?"

Somehow, he knew that she wasn't referring to his physical injuries. "Does it matter?" The world would go on regardless of what happened to him, and Zuko had a job to do in keeping it as stable as possible. Nevertheless, she was still watching him with concern, and Zuko realized that he must look awful—it had been awhile since he'd looked in the mirror, but several months' worth of missed sleep coupled with missed meals was not without consequences. "I'll be fine, Ming," he amended with a sigh. "Just take care of Yuan."

With a nod and another bow, she left the room. A few minutes later, the doctor declared him sufficiently patched up to leave, and Zuko returned to his room. The fresh set of guards outside of his door—the first shift had also been injured in the attack, and were under orders to take time off until they were fully recovered—saluted him as he passed by, but Zuko was too exhausted to give them more than a brief nod in exchange before closing the door behind him and falling into his bed.

He couldn't sleep.

Though his body cried out for rest and his eyes were dry and scratchy, his mind simply would not stop working. Where he was and what he was doing was so different from what he'd wanted that it was laughable. Zuko did not miss the irony that at the moment, nothing appealed to him more than running away to Ba Sing Se and spending the rest of his life working in Uncle's tea shop—or, failing that, leaping into Appa's saddle at first opportunity and wandering the world with Aang once more.

 _How is it that I've managed to spend so much of my life wanting the one thing that I can't have?_ he wondered as he closed his eyes once more.


	44. Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Iroh, Zuko

It was almost time.

In the Fire Nation, summer was always a time of celebration. His brother would certainly be celebrating—if for the wrong reasons.

Iroh, meanwhile, was busy sending out messenger hawks to contact members of the Order, and sending out special human messengers to get in touch with those who could not be contacted by more conventional means. Waiting for the Comet to come. Waiting for his brother to make his move. Waiting for the Avatar to take his place in the world.

Wondering what had happened to his nephew.

Zuko had always loved the solstice celebrations, running about with a carton of fire flakes in one hand and a colorful mask in the other, often with Azula by his side. He and Ursa had laughed at their antics (Ozai, even then, simply could not be bothered), and Lu Ten had taken the children from stall to stall to play games for prizes or to buy them more sweets than they could eat. That had been in the days before Lu Ten had died and Ursa had disappeared, and Zuko had decided that he was too old for stupid children's games (Azula had declared the same thing years before) and that it was time for him to start engaging in more princely activities such as practicing his battle katas or studying the movement of the troops.

Now, Iroh was preparing for fireworks of an entirely different kind—it might have been only his imagination, but there were times when he thought he felt a twinge in his blood, his inner fire flaring in response to the approaching comet. They were running out of time—summer was fleeting this year, it seemed, the days slipping through his fingers like water, and he _had_ to be ready to play his part. Ba Sing Se was his destiny. The Fire Lord was the Avatar's. As for the Fire Nation, however… Iroh simply did not know.

There was nothing he could do that he had not already done. For three years now he had advised, taught, lectured, protected, and shown all the caring he could. Even after three years, however, it had not been enough… but he had seen, the last time his nephew had visited, that Zuko was starting to doubt. To question.

To think for himself.

There was no longer any way for Iroh to know whether Zuko had chosen the path of good, to restore balance to the world, or whether he was at this very moment sitting at Ozai's right hand plotting the subjugation of the Earth Kingdom. Now, he could only hope.

"The final preparations have been made." Piandao's voice broke into his thoughts; his old friend had been considerate enough to shelter him while he had sent out the call to the rest of the Order. "Are you ready to leave?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose." His joints creaked as he pushed himself to his feet; he might have made good use of his time in prison, but he was quickly getting too old for this.

"I also just received word from the capital." Piandao's next words were spoken with a slight hesitance, as if unsure how Iroh would react to the news. "It seems that the prince also departed on the Day of Black Sun—for what reasons and under what circumstances, nobody knows."

"I see." The twinge that went through his heart next had nothing to do with the coming Comet.

Iroh could not know—he could only hope.


	45. See what I did there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Roku, Gyatso

"See what I did there?"

"What, _that_ old trick? A five-year-old nonbender could do that!"

"Oh really now? Then let's see you do better, Avatar!"

"Ha! Watch me!" Taking a running start over the cliff edge, Roku bend the wind under the wings of his glider. Rather than holding onto it, however, he threw it forward at the last second, letting his feet strike air as he fell forward into nothingness.

Gyatso's yell of alarm was only audible for a split second before being swallowed by the increasing distance combined with the wind whistling in his ears. Still, Roku waited, arms and legs spread to slow his fall, all logical thought lost to the exhilaration of the fall and the rushing wind. If he'd gotten the angle right, he'd be okay. If not… well, tomorrow the monks would be seeking the next Avatar in the cycle and he wouldn't be around to worry about it anyway.

As it turned out, he hadn't messed up—a flash of orange in the corner of his eye was all the signal he needed to stretch out his hand, catching his glider flawlessly as it came speeding by. He ended up holding onto the thing upside-down, but in the end that only made things better. A series of midair twirls and loop-the-loops later, he was landing next to Gyatso with a flourish—a feat that was by no means diminished by the fact that he landed squarely on his face. Air Temple dirt, as it turned out, tasted just the same as dirt in the Fire Nation.

"See what _I_ did there?" Gyatso's only response was to laugh and blow his hair out of his face.

The rest of the monks, as it turned out, were not nearly so amused. They couldn't exactly ground him—as the Avatar, it simply was not feasible to put a halt to his training every time he got himself in trouble—but they did spend the next month taking his glider away unless he was under strict supervision.

That was okay, however. They didn't know that Gyatso was lending Roku his own glider outside of lessons—and what they didn't know couldn't hurt them.


	46. You know I'm right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Iroh, Jeong Jeong

"Firebending breeds nothing but death and destruction, and you know it! Look around you, Iroh. You know I'm right."

There was no need for him to look around; he had already seen it with his own two eyes. Ashes, smoldering embers, and the crumbling remains of what had once been trees or houses was what had greeted him after every charge he'd led, the horror of it only sinking in after the rush of battle had worn off. The first time he'd smelled charred flesh in the wake of a battle, he'd had to step away so his men would not see him be sick in the bushes, and he'd been unable to eat roasted meat for several weeks after. Iroh did not need to look again to know what the other man was talking about. He knew all too well the destructive nature of fire.

He could not, however, agree with Jeong Jeong's condemnation of their element—not after the other thing he'd seen.

_So many colors… colors he'd never seen before… swirled above him in a vortex of rainbow fire. This was not death. This was not destruction. This was life—life at its purest._

It was, however, a vision he could not share—not after the promise he'd made. "I'm afraid that that is a point where we'll have to agree to disagree, old friend." He let out a sigh. "I can give you a day's head start—but no more."


	47. Hey! I'm walking here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Toph

"Hey! I'm walking here!"

"Correction, Sparky." Yet _another_ piece of ground slid away from him right as he put his foot on it, causing his legs to slide right out from under him. His arms windmilled frantically as he pitched forward, struggling to regain his balance, but it was too late for him: for the third time that morning, Zuko ended up face-down on the ground, looking up at a smirking twelve-year-old through his bangs and wondering whether he should just take a walk off the nearest available cliff and save her the trouble. "You _were_ walking."

"Fine." He pushed himself to his feet, brushing dirt off his clothes as best he could. "I _was_ walking. Happy?"

"Nope!" The grin on her face was far too cheerful for his liking. "If I don't walk in comfort, then neither do you."

There was nothing whatsoever that Zuko could say to that—at least, nothing that wouldn't make him look like a total jerk. "How are your feet doing?" he asked instead, with a great deal less annoyance than before.

"Eh. It'll heal." She shrugged nonchalantly before pointing a finger in his general direction. "But that doesn't mean that you get off the hook from me getting you back _or_ from doing your job. Now get back to training Twinkletoes, Sparky!"

 _That's what I_ _was_ _doing before you tripped me_ , Zuko resisted the urge to say. Instead, he rolled his eyes and continued on his way to Aang's room.

He didn't make it three steps before he was flat on his face again.


	48. Radioactive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Sozin  
> Warnings: Genocide, descriptions of dead bodies

There was nothing left but ashes.

All around him was evidence of the slaughter that had taken place only a few days ago. Charred bones surrounded the temple. A hand, burnt black, reached out from beneath the rubble, fingers curled into claws as if reaching out for help—or with the intent of dragging him down with it. The smell of burnt and rotting flesh was nearly enough to make him gag.

Scattered among them were a surprisingly large number of bodies in Fire Nation armor—but Sozin's soldiers had died without a mark on them, eyes wide with horror as their hands clawed at their throats.

No matter. The Fire Nation was still strong, and could rebuild its army once more. The Air Nomads had been too weak, and had been wiped from existence. It was simply the natural order of things.

In his studies, he'd once read his grandfather's writings on the arrival of a comet… a comet that enhanced firebenders' power a hundredfold, and which would be returning in Sozin's lifetime… When the day came, he'd felt the power burn within him, down to his very bones. No words could have done the experience justice: with the power of the comet singing in his veins, Sozin had felt more _alive_ than he had in decades, not since he and Roku had been together and the world had been so much brighter. This time, however, the world had turned a different kind of bright as it burned down before him.

Now, walking among the Air Nomads' bodies, Sozin wondered: had _he_ been among them?

Twelve years ago, Roku had died. Twelve years ago, the seed of an idea had begun to grow in Sozin's mind. The next Avatar would still be a child, unable to oppose him, unaware that he even _could_ —and Sozin was determined that he would never come to that realization. The next Avatar's identity would not be revealed until he was sixteen: better to wipe out his entire people, now, while he was still a child. As for the cycle… well, they could easily enough ensure that no Avatar born into the Water Tribes would ever be in any condition to fight against them either.

Except Sozin had the creeping feeling that he was _not_ here, that in spite of his careful preparations, his secret planning, and his orders to strike all four of the Air Temples simultaneously so that no one of them could warn the others, the one person he had been aiming for had somehow gotten away.

Sozin, however, had not stabilized his reign as Fire Lord through incompetence. He knew patience, he knew how to plan ahead—and he knew to always have a contingency plan.

All of the Air Nomads were never going to be in one place at one time—they wandered too much, and placed too much value on their own freedom. Even as Sozin was arranging the strike on the Air Temples, he'd also been setting into place a plan to catch these stragglers. Hopefully this would be sufficient to take care of the Avatar—but even if it wasn't, then he, and his children, and possibly even his children's children, would continue to hunt him until he was found. Eventually, there would be no place to hide.

It was a new age, one without any room for the Air Nomads—or for the Avatar.


	49. Jar of Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Mai, Azula, Ty Lee, Suki, Zuko, Aang  
> Pairing: Maiko  
> Warning: Abuse

All of them had scars.

Azula might not have been the first one to hurt her, but she had found the old wounds and dug her fingers in, expertly, to prevent them from healing. Even now that she was free of the princess and her parents alike, Mai still caught herself suppressing a smile, substituting boredom for emotion, and never letting anyone else see anything that actually _mattered_ , lest it be turned against her. Except there was no longer anyone to turn it against her: she was surrounded by people she loved or at the very least trusted, yet she still was not free.

Ty Lee hid also, covering up the old hurt with good cheer, never letting anyone else know when she was angry or sad because she had learned that it _would_ hurt her. On the day of the coronation Mai had listened to Ty Lee babble on about meeting the Kyoshi Warriors in prison and how they had become such _good_ friends even after Azula had had them locked up together with the intention of letting them kill each other but that was okay because it had all worked out in the end and—

"Ty Lee," she had said, simply, and watched her friend's face crumble. A second later the other girl was in her arms, crying into Mai's shoulder while her entire body shook, and Mai wrapped her arms around Ty Lee in turn even though she wasn't normally someone who hugged.

"She has a way," Suki confessed, seemingly at random, over their game of Pai Sho in the Jasmine Dragon, "of finding whatever hurts the most—of exploiting all of your deepest fears and insecurities and convincing you that your hopes are nothing more than an illusion. In the end, she's got you thinking that the only source you can trust on anything is her word." She did not provide further details, and Mai did not ask for them.

Zuko's was one of the most obvious. When the bandages came off for the final time, Mai was there, and she lightly ran her fingers over the hardened, star-shaped mark—an action she had not planned, but which her hand did on its own as if compelled by some outside force.

She had nearly taken his heart.

"Aang has one to match," he said, quietly, as she withdrew her hand.

Mai saw that one too, when he and Aang practiced their firebending in the courtyard for old times' sake. As often happened on hot days when firebending was involved, they trained shirtless, and the angry red mark on the Avatar's upper back was impossible to miss. It drew the eyes more clearly than any target ( _had_ been a target), breaking the line of his tattoos, marring the otherwise surprisingly delicate-looking skin on his back.

When he caught her looking—Mai didn't know how, as she was sure she hadn't made a sound—Aang merely turned around with a smile. "I'm just glad to be alive," he said cheerfully, before returning his attention to the form they were drilling.

Yes, alive. No human who'd ever been born made it through a lifetime unscathed, unscarred. Still, Mai could not help but wonder what her life would have been like—what _all_ of their lives would have been like—if Azula had never been a part of it.


	50. Thriller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Zuko, Aang, Mai, Koh  
> Warning: This involves Koh. Read at your own risk.

Something was lurking in the dark—and what was worse, even what little information he did have told Zuko that he was powerless to stop it.

"Aang, can't you tell me anything else about this… spirit?" When several Fire Nation citizens had shown up missing their faces, Zuko had known right away that it was out of his hands, and he had done the only thing he could do: he had sent for the Avatar _immediately_. Close to midnight, Aang had arrived along with Sokka and Katara, and they must have been hurrying like mad to get here so soon—that sort of urgency was never a good sign.

Now, Aang was telling him that there was some face-stealing spirit on the loose, and that the only defense against it was to show no expression at all. It grated on Zuko that he would not be able to face this Koh—it might have been the Avatar's job to maintain balance with the Spirit World, but those were _his_ people out there suffering a fate worse than death. As their Fire Lord, he should have been able to protect them.

"I… I don't know." Aang bit his lip as Katara and Sokka slid from Appa's saddle behind him. "Koh steals faces. I never asked him why, and I don't know what he's doing out of the Spirit World _now_. I'm going to go talk to him and see if I can find out what he wants."

"Do you need any help?"

"No!" Aang looked slightly panicked for a second before he forced himself to calm down, taking deep, even breaths. "If you show any emotion— _anything_ , no matter how slight—the same thing is going to happen to you. _I've_ got several hundred lifetimes' worth of experience to draw on to keep my face blank, but I can't know that you can do the same, and I'm not putting you at that kind of risk unless I can be sure. Besides, you need to focus on getting people to safety—Katara, Sokka, and Appa will help you."

Of course, Aang was right—as usual. Zuko gave a nod, and Aang tossed him the reins before taking up his glider.

"What are you going to do?" he could not help but ask as his friend stood on the edge of the palace balcony, looking out into the darkened city.

"I'm going to talk to him, and find out what he wants. Maybe I can convince him to stop." Still, Aang did not look at him as he said it, but whatever he was planning, there was nothing Zuko could do—his responsibility, first and foremost, was to his people.

"Okay. Be safe."

Aang nodded back. "Good luck."

* * *

Mai's heart gave an unpleasant jolt at the sight that greeted her by the light of the full moon.

The thing looked like a spider-centipede gone wrong, mutated and grown to enormous size. Even worse than that, however, was the fact that the thing was currently staring at her with her mother's _face_.

The scream of terror that wanted to come out of her mouth got caught and died somewhere in her throat, and Mai could only stand, paralyzed, as the thing met her eyes and moved toward her with a predatory grin.

"Why hello, young lady." It did not speak with her mother's voice—its tone was much deeper, more masculine—but the sight of her mother's face alone was enough to prompt Mai to unconsciously school her own face into an impassive mask, to avoid showing even the slightest hint of an expression even as it coiled about her and came just short of tapping her shoulders with its many legs. "And what is a noble girl with such a beautiful face doing outside by herself in the middle of the night?"

"Nothing. I just hate it less out here than I do inside." Mai had adopted her "bored tone," her personal passive-aggressive shield against her mother's constant admonitions to sit still and be silent, to never do anything unbecoming of a lady—in other words, never to do anything at all. In truth, Zuko had asked for her help in evacuating some of the more vulnerable families while he awaited the arrival of the Avatar—but the truth, in this case, would only be a liability, would be handing the enemy weapons. She did not have to be a genius or a spiritual expert to deduce that this monster bore the responsibility for the nightmare that had engulfed the Fire Nation capital.

Its face blinked closed, and when it opened again her mother's face had been replaced with a new one, an elderly man she didn't recognize. "You do not look very hateful." It tightened its coils, peering into her eyes before circling around to her back, but Mai kept her face determinedly blank. "As a matter of fact, you do not look anything at all."

"So?" She wanted to shrug, but resisted the urge—the thing was wound around her body rather tightly now, and the thought of brushing up against its legs was one that Mai found rather repulsive. "What do you care how I look?"

"Koh." Both of them turned at once, to see the Avatar standing in a nearby alleyway, glider in hand—and, Mai could not help but notice, his voice was level when he spoke, his face perfectly devoid of any expression. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah. My old friend the Avatar." To Mai's relief, the creature uncoiled from around her body and slithered in Aang's direction instead. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Instead of answering, the Avatar turned to Mai. "Go find Zuko and the others. They're evacuating the city." He waited for her nod before returning his attention to the monster—Koh, Aang had called him. "Why don't you answer my question first?"

As she fled down the nearest available alleyway, the last thing she heard was Koh's response: "What am I doing here? Someone called me, of course."

* * *

"Listen up, everybody! We need to do this in an orderly fashion! Children and the elderly on Appa! Everyone else, go with my sister."

The people scrambled to do as Sokka instructed, parents handing their children up to Appa's saddle. While he was busy with that, Katara helped up a pregnant woman and a man missing one of his legs. As soon as they had crammed up as many people as they could manage, Sokka settled himself on the bison's neck, but it wasn't nearly enough: they were still surrounded by people on the ground, families, disabled, people who would not be able to run even if their lives depended on it.

There was nothing for it, however: Appa's saddle simply would not fit any more people. "Go," Zuko said. "The sooner you get moving, the sooner you can come back for more. We'll handle things on the ground."

With a nod, Sokka flicked the reins. "Yip yip."

Appa beat his tail against the ground, and then they were airborne. Katara continued to watch until the bison was nothing more than a tiny white speck in the distance.

Meanwhile, Zuko was walking among his people, walking from one to the other and speaking words of encouragement. "Stay calm. They'll be back shortly." Katara, however, kept her eyes on the skies, and before long she saw what she was waiting for: another speck, not nearly large enough or white enough to be Appa, came flying down at them, and she held out her arm to intercept it.

Sokka's messenger hawk lighted on her leather gauntlet, and she reached into the message tube on its back to read their latest intelligence—from a high elevation over the city, Sokka would be able to track Koh's movements without taking the risk of losing his face. "He's in the northwest quadrant," she informed Zuko, "heading toward the caldera wall."

Zuko looked up, startled, from where he was trying to help a woman calm a screaming baby, as Katara released the hawk once more. "Then we need to move." He straightened, assuming the same clear, confident tone that he used when giving a public speech. "Everybody. We're going to head south now. Stick together and stay calm!" Even as he spoke, he shot his fist into the air, producing a string of characters, written in flame, which hovered in the air for a few seconds before dissipating into smoke. Hopefully, that would be enough to inform any stragglers of their new location.

As the crowd began to move, Zuko took the lead while Katara brought up the rear. Her hand hovered constantly over the mouth of her waterskin, even though she honestly didn't know whether even her bending would be able to protect her—not against a face-stealing spirit who needed only an expression in order to render her worse than a corpse.

They had walked for what seemed like hours, her feet sore and her legs burning with the strain, when she heard movement to her side. Immediately she tensed, feet moving into a fighting stance.

"Hello?" she called. For all she knew, the movement could have been a person, yet another innocent civilian trying to get out of the capital before falling victim.

Something moved at her out of the dark.

Instinctively, forgetting what she was doing and what the situation was, she turned—but before it came into her line of sight, a wall of flame sprang up between them, blocking it from her view and her from its.

"GO!" Zuko yelled, the good side of his face twisted in panic, and the flames roared higher. "Take the others and run!"

"But you—"

"Katara, the people need someone to protect them! I'll hold him off, but you have to go now!"

Swallowing back her hesitation, Katara nodded. Already screams of panic were erupting around her, but she raised her voice above them. "Everyone with me! Now _run!_ " As she spoke she emptied her waterskin onto the ground, at the same time drawing moisture from the gutters, from the air, from people's sweat—anywhere she could reach it, and leaped forward onto the puddle that froze at her touch. The others followed suit, and then she was carrying them along on a wave of ice, out of the capital and toward the distant edge of the caldera. As they traveled, tears streamed from her eyes, but she did not bother to wipe them away.

_I'm sorry, Zuko._

* * *

Turning his head, he saw that Katara and the people she protected were already far into the distance. Good. He had bought them enough time.

That said absolutely nothing, however, about Zuko's situation. Even as he looked after Katara, he saw a dark shadow moving through his flames in his peripheral vision, and braced himself. _Show no expression_ , Aang had said. Aang had also said that he didn't know whether Zuko could pull it off, but that didn't mean he shouldn't at least try. Before he could school his face, however, the dark form had moved out of the flames entirely.

"Hello, Fire Lord."

Zuko knew that he was showing shock—he had had no time to adopt a calm expression. By all means he should have been a faceless worse-than corpse the moment Koh broke through the flames, yet somehow— _face!_ That was it! He was presenting Koh with his _left_ profile—the eyebrow missing and the eye frozen into a permanent glare by the hardened scar tissue. As far as that region of his face was concerned, he couldn't have emoted if he tried.

Now, he only had to be extra careful not to smile or frown—or smirk, grit his teeth, gape… okay, maybe he wasn't out of the fire yet after all.

"Hello, Koh." As the spirit circled around him Zuko turned so the left side of his face was always facing him, though it screamed against every instinct he had—his eye had been injured by the burn as well and had never fully healed, leaving his vision much weaker on that side than it was on his right. Currently, all he could make out of Koh was a dark blur.

"My reputation precedes me, I see."

"You do know that the Avatar is here, right?" Zuko turned once again; he must not let Koh see the right side of his face…

"Oh yes. I ran into him myself, a little way back. He tried to stop me, but I don't have nearly enough faces for my collection yet, so I'm afraid that returning to the Spirit World will have to wait."

"So why do you want faces?" _Buy time, buy time, just keep buying time until Aang figures something out…_

"I really don't think a human would understand the why of what I do. If you are not amenable to giving me your face, however, I suppose I will simply have to find someone more… emotional."

 _Katara!_ The horrified realization had barely hit him, however, when Aang's voice called out to him out of the dark.

"Zuko! Stand back!"

He barely had time to leap out of the way as Aang landed between them, a wind springing up around him as his eyes and tattoos lit up with a supernatural glow. "Koh the Face Stealer," he said, and when he spoke it was no longer in Aang's voice, but in the combined voices of all the Avatars before him. "You are devastating the balance of the human world and the Spirit World. Return to your home, and leave us to ours."

At that, the light glowed so bright that Zuko had to look away, his eyes squeezed shut. When he looked again, Koh was gone—and Aang was once again just Aang, panting with exertion as he leaned on his glider.

Slowly, they both sank to the ground, leaning against each other as they sat back to back. "I hope… I never have to deal with anything like that… ever again."

"How did he even get here anyway?" Zuko asked. "And _why?_ "

Aang rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepish, which Zuko knew was never a good sign. "Um… well, he said that someone summoned him. I un-summoned him just now, but we're going to find out who did it in the first place, and how, so that it doesn't happen again."

Zuko leaned back with a groan. _This_ , he knew, was _his_ job—and after a night like this, he never wanted to hear about spirits ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not happy with this chapter. I found this one especially hard to write, primarily because I've already written a Thriller-inspired story for another fandom, so my inspiration from this song all went into that story, leaving no room for this one.


End file.
